


WASTED

by Mason5809



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherhood, F/M, Falling In Love, Fallout Video Game References, Gore, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, PTSD, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Revised from FF.Net Version, Sex, Slavery, Slow Burn, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mason5809/pseuds/Mason5809
Summary: Angela finds herself at the mercy of the Australian Wasteland known as the Outback, but after a lucky landing, will this fallen angel recover in the care of a young waster? Will the young man leave the wastes when the time comes, or will he choose to stay to protect a place doomed to hell itself? Originally posted on FF.net on my original account.
Relationships: Angela "Mercy" Ziegler & Original Male Character(s), Angela "Mercy" Ziegler/Original Male Character(s), Bromances All Around - Relationship, Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari & Original Male Character(s), Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Original Male Character(s), Lena "Tracer" Oxton & Original Male Character(s), Lena "Tracer" Oxton & Winston
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time on Archive and I wanted to go ahead and throw my story out there, see if this community as any feedback for me. I take all forms of criticism, because I assure you, not one of you could hate me more than I already hate myself. Enjoy the story.

Deep within the Heartland of the Outback Wasteland::

It was hot in Australia, like, really fucking hot. When the sun reaches its peak, if not blocked by radiation storms, is likely to roast anything beneath its fiery gaze. Many had perished among these hill, most would consider it a graveyard, not him, to him, this was home. The roar of his motorcycle ripping dirt, sand, and shrubs from their stationary position as he flies down the road.

His radio hummed softly with what he liked to call the old world blues.

" _Ain't got no place to call a home, Only chains and broken bones, Ain't got no place to call a home, So come on Lord, won't you take me now?_ "

He hummed softly along with the music, muffled by the wind and rebreather attached to his face. He heard the familiar sounds of engines roaring behind him. He looked over his shoulder and caught sight of his pursuers, six vehicles in total, two motorcycles, three cars, and one big rig, all rusted and damaged to some extent, with metal plates semi professionally welded to the side acting as makeshift armor.

"Hmph, fuckin' junkers..”

He growled softly, irritated that he would be arriving home with more trouble than he planned. He slowed his bike as to let the vehicles catch up. He readied his 1911, and hit the brakes harder, becoming parallel to one of the other motorcycle riders. As he aimed, this was not unnoticed by the other junkers, who tried to run him down before he started firing.

Before the bike riders could react, a .45 round was fired and fine red mist exiting the other side of his head, causing him and the bike to swivel back and forth before crashing altogether and being run over by the big rig. He quickly began firing taking the other rider and one of the cars out of commission by eliminating the driver. He holstered his 1911, and slowed down more to pull up the side of the big rig. He grabbed a small cylinder from his belt beneath his duster, and slammed it against the side of the rig. He pulled the accelerator as hard as he could, launching himself ahead, deciding to add a wheelie for a good final 'Fuck You'. As soon as he passed the front of the rig, he glanced behind him to watch the show.

* ** _BOOM!*_**

The rig's trailer flipped on the right side opposite to the fireball that rose to the left side of the trailer. Its resulting flip caused it to land on another car, while the other came to a stop, presumably to help out their fellow junkers. He kept down the long stretch of road, his radio still blaring in the wind. He followed the long road for miles with no stop, before pulling off to the right side onto a dirt road. He turned and dwelled deeper into the desert, enjoying the sea of blue, red, tan, and occasional green that was the Outback.

He pulled up to an old church in the middle of the desert. Its tall bell tower blocking out the sun, giving it a more mysterious look at first gaze. He pulled the bike up next to the door, before sliding off the bike and kicking up its stand. The masked man pushed the old, dusty, doors open with one big push, followed by the loud creak of the aging wood. He sauntered in, his boots making a quiet ' _thump'_ each time it connected to the old wooden floor.

He looked around his "house" of sorts. There was a living area in the main hall, a large workshop like table, scattered with blueprints, guns, knives, and other parts, with a small fire pit in the middle, currently not lit. The kitchen was off to the left, consisting of a small island, a mini fridge, a old cast iron stove, and a few cabinets. On the right side was a old ceramic tub and metal bucket for washing. He didn't have a bed, but rather a sleeping pad braced with a few old dusty ponchos. But for the most part, he slept in the bell tower, incase of attack, he would know of his enemy.

He spent weeks, months even, getting everything he had in here. This was one of his only possessions, his home. One of the few things he would die for. He held four things in high regard, his guns, his armor, his bike, and his home, in that order.

He flipped on a radio on a small table in the middle of the chapel. It filled his cozy home with the old words of Johnny Cash's 'Hurt'. He set down his duffle bag and lit a lantern on the table, turning the knob until he felt that it was producing the appropriate amount of light. The masked man grabbed his M1903 Springfield Bolt Action, his cleaning kit and sat down at the table and pulled a cigar from a breast pocket within his duster. He grabbed his mask and used his free hand to unlatch it from the back of his head. He placed the mask on the table and scratched the scruff on his cheek, itchy from being trapped in-between dirt, sand, and a tightly bound mask.

He closed his eyes and imagined the gun in his hands, completely bare, parts undone and carefully categorized. He placed the rifle on the table and with meticulous and carefully planned movements of a unspoken expert. He field stripped the gun in seconds, parts lay organized in a pattern only this waster could recognize. He realized he had yet to light the cigar he had in his mouth, he flicked open his old zippo, striking a flame, and quietly puffing his cigar, till the end glowed a soft red. He flicked the lighters lid back down and returned it to his pocket.

The waster took no time in cleaning his weapons. His "many" years here, despite his youthful age of twenty one, has taught him a variety of lessons. Clean weapons; especially since bullet cartridges tend to leave a gun far more damaged than pulse rounds. Ammunition; always keep a steady supply, he was lucky to have an ammo bench out back using recycled shells, but since they were a rarity, scavenging and recycling will have to do. Cooking; eh, better than ninety year old rations, am I right? Oh, and most importantly, stimulation of the **mind;** he learned years ago that endless hours of nothing could cause one to loose his/her mind. He saw it in the eyes of many of the Junkers, Raiders, and Madmen that wondered the deserts and savannas of the Outback. That raging fire of rage and revenge at the world for its cruelty, for taking their mind, their **_soul_** …

* ** _BOOM_** *

Dust shook itself free from the rafters, floating down to the table in front of him. He lurched from his seat at the table, quickly grabbing his mask and rifle, now completely assembled and making way for the bell tower. When he reached the top, he was surprised to find the sun had set, how many times did he clean his rifle? ' _Eh, who cares, I have more pressing matters_.’

He aimed his rifle in all directions before a steady orange glow caught his eye, he zoomed the scope in to see a distant fire fight between two factions, he laid down and opened the bipod, aiming to get the best sight possible. He soon heard the steady ignition from a drop ship. He flipped over only to catch a glimpse of it as it flew over head, cut from view by the roof over the tower. He flipped back over to see it fly towards the distant gunfire. The night sky, despite the bright stars on the clear night, the darkness kept him from the drop ship's sight as it approached the fire fight. He kept his scope on the air support, and soon recognized a symbol on the drop ship. 

" ** _OVERWATCH"_** He raised his brow, he had been through their old, abandoned bases, some out deep in the wastes like he was, in fact, if he was correct, there was one only a few miles from his home. ' _At least I know where they are, but why is overwatch going to its old bases, i thought they were shut down by NATO and the UN?’_

The gunfire escalated for a moment, his sights catching the members of Overwatch boarding the drop ship, and taking off with the hatch still down. They closed in on his position and he tensed instantly, ' _Please don't bring your fucking fight to my door step..'_ Two fighters tailed the Overwatch drop ship before both released missiles. The masked waster's eyes widened, he aimed and and traced the missile a bit over sixty meters ahead and fired, his bullet slamming into the missile. The explosion was blinding, but it mattered not as the second missile struck the still open drop ship. He stood up as they passed the front of his land. When the missile made contact, he heard a scream as a woman clad in white plummeted out the back of the drop ship.

' ** _WHAT ARE YOU DAFT? SAVE HER YOU DEGENERATE!’_**

The masked man shook his head of one of his more distant memories. He dove down the sloped roof before jumping, tucking, and rolling. As soon as he was back up, he sprinted forward already closing the gap and stopping, his arms held open to save whoever the hell decided against buckling up during Ariel combat. ' ** _Omph!'_** He groaned as he caught the woman, holding her bridal style in his arms. Her eyes squeezed shut in fear of a death that did not come. The first thing he noticed, ' _Heh, Im holding a fallen angel.'_ He joked internally. Second was her medical condition, she had a gash on her temple, a cut lip, and he could see a bruise crawling its way up her neck, like someone had been **_choking_** her. ' _Omnic did it by the looks of it, too much damage for a normal hand_.’

He grimaced softly, he had a really bad experience with being choked, _'But thats a story for another day, right now I need to get this woman back to her buddies…fuck.'_ He thought bitterly. With that, the Overwatch and pursuing ships sailed off into the distance. He grunted before turning and began walking towards his home, woman firmly tucked in his arms.

He glanced down to see she was still dazed and confused, shock and adrenaline in her system. Her focus came to the masked man before her. She opened her mouth to say something, hesitating before speaking. "W-who are yo-u?" She managed to stammer out.

' _So she's Swiss, or German, can't really tell…_ ’

He said nothing, hoping she wouldn't press further. She's a smart one, didn't push it, ' _Thank you_ ' he thought with appreciation. He turned around and pushed the door open with his back. Sighing softly as he brought her to the sleeping pad. He laid her down gently, noticing her closed eyes. She most likely passed out from exhaustion. He said nothing as he turned to activate the fire pit, eager to bring light to the dim room. He crawled underneath the table and turned the knob for the propane tank on, and using his zippo to light the pilot light. He crawled back out to see the room enveloped in a warm glow, as fire radiated heat and light to its surroundings.

He walked over to the woman and truly looked at her in the proper lighting. She was beautiful, clad head to toe in a set of armor he recognized from the posters in the old Overwatch base. White plate composite armor complete with a halo and set of wings. She was missing that staff from the posters, ' _Where is her doo-hickey?'_ He tried remembering if he saw her grasping the staff when she fell, and remembered she most certainly was. 

He left his home, door cracked open and went outside to where she had fallen. He saw a small pulse pistol and a staff that seemed incomprehensibly complicated, there on the ground. He approached and picked both up. He twirled the staff and looked at it stoically, examining it. He heard the door creak and spun around, pistol aimed at the door. He put the staff in-between his back and one of the bandoliers strapped to him. He kept the pistol level to the door and approached quickly going to the side of the door. He used the muzzle of the gun to push the door open.

First thing he noticed when he opened the door. 1. Lady in White was not on the bed. 2. His 1911 on the table was gone. 3. There was a presence of a cold metal barrel pressed against the back of his head. He sighed audibly before raising his hands and turning around, she had his gun pointed at him, trembling some-what.

"Al-lright, here's what's gonna happen. Y-You're gonna give me my staff and gun, and I-HEY!" She leveled the pistol to his head as he reached behind him, he stopped his movements before continuing until he grabbed her staff. He instantly noticed she stopped tensing as much. He pulled it free from his back, in an instant he used it's superior length to knock the pistol out of her hand, with it up in the air, he brought his hand up and caught his 1911, bringing it back down, level to her head.

She gulped and raised her hands. Her confidence destroyed, she stood back. "S-Stay Back! Pl-lease don't hurt me!" He lowered his handgun and holstered it. He walked to a locker in the corner and opened it, he placed the staff within it as well as her pistol before locking it and placing the key in his pocket. He turned back to her and pointed to the bedding. She looked terrified, like someone who was trapped in a cage.

He decided that if he didn't want Overwatch coming in and wrecking the place, he needed to let her know he didn't plan on doing anything to harm her, and for some reason, the look of fear she gave him bothered him more than usual. He just wanted to heal her up, and send her on her way. Maybe Overwatch would even give him stuff to make more ammo! Oh boy, what a dream…with that, he sighed, and began.

"You hungry?" She looked surprised by his question, even as far to say, "C-come again?" He grunted softly before speaking again, his rebreather deepening his voice. "Are you hungry?" He said louder this time. She seemed taken aback before reluctantly nodding. Its not like she remembered to grab rations before she was forcefully ejected from a drop ship. She had planned on eating as soon as she returned, but it appears she will be dining with a stranger tonight. He said nothing and walked to the kitchen, preparing Angela's first meal in the wastes. She watched him and slowly made her way to the pallet he had laid out and after carefully removing the wings and halo circlet from her head, she laid down and stared at him from across the room.

She took in his appearance, he was tall, at least by her standards, and that says a lot considering the super soldiers she fixed up in the past, coming up to a comfy 6'7. He wore a large brown duster, with kevlar armor underneath, and black combat pants and boots. His dark brown hair and faux haircut stood out, she wondered how he managed to keep it so short considering the lack of barbers in the area, it spiked up slightly in the front. She saw he still wore the rebreather even inside, were the radiation levels here high or something? Or did he just not want her to see his face. She imagined it was the latter.

His holster shook has he stirred whatever was in the pot on the stove. He turned and set the woken ladle down and placed a top over it. He walked over to the radio and turned the knob, only receiving static on his end. "Grrrrr, stupid fuckin' rad storms.." He turned to a trunk near the locker he placed her staff in. and approached it. "R-radiation? Is it bad here?" He stopped and looked at her before smiling behind his mask.

"*chuckles* You have no fuckin' idea." He rasped. She paled before trying to sit up, he lost the smile and changed course and went to push her back down, she grunted, but offered no resistance. He turned his attention back to the trunk and opened it. He pulled a old standard issue gas mask, a med kit, and a small electric guitar and amp from the old steamer trunk. He used his foot to close it and sauntered back over to her before setting everything down. "The gas mask is for when a rad storm hits, which it should in the next day or so." She shrunk even more.

He grabbed the medkit and opened it, opening old packets of alcohol wipes and opening them. He looked at her a sighed, know full well he was going to have to take the make off so he could see her wounds more clearly. He reached behind his head and unlatched the main connecter and pulled the mask free from his face. He heard her soft gasp. He almost chuckled. ' _Of course, why would i expect otherwise?_ ' He thought darkly.

He looked up at her and saw something he didn't expect. He expected pity, fear, maybe even disgust, but only a look of pure **sadness** adorned her graceful features. ' _Graceful?_ ' He shook his head and began wiping the blood from her face and from the sides of her lip. She hissed as the wipes made contact. She winced every dab he did, and saw that the woman was in deep thought. ' _Please don't ask me…'_ "I-If you don't mind me asking, what happened to you?”

He lowered his hands to his lap, looking into her eyes, trying to detect any type of malice or ill intent of the question, but found none.

He continued cleaning her face as he began speaking. "When I was but a boy, and for many years to follow, I was a slave for the local raiders, any minimal crime and the slaves were punished harshly, if there was absolutely anything out of place. I was caught sneaking food to other slaves. The penalty for that is death, but my owner decided i was still useful, so he decided to whip my face with a bull whip twice, once for my mistake, and another so i would never do it again. The other scars range from fire fights, to tumbling around with the local wildlife. Something ill need to keep you informed on if you are to survive longer than a week here, and the last are from fires, some brands, some punishment, they all vary.”

She soaked in all the details with rapt attention, and slowly studied his face. High cheek bones, strong jawline, face full of scruff, he was the perfect picture of a survivalist, the idea of a man overcoming nature by himself. Three large scars all parallel with a few inches of space between each on the right side of his face, the middle one having barely gazed past his eye. ' _Wildlife.._ ' Two more jagged scars on the left, one from his strong cheek bones to his nose and a slightly longer one above the first, ‘ _Punishment.._ '

"How..how old are you?" She asked softly. He stayed quiet for a moment. "Twenty one I think, I lost track after a while, time out here is relative." He finished shortly afterwards, and sat back, looking at the bandages that covered her perfect, pale, complexion. They both stared at each other, her blue eyes noticed they way his turquoise eyes seemed to shine in the light of the fire. "Thank you…for saving me." He nodded quickly, unsure how to respond to praise. He closed his eyes before strapping the mask to his face and walking back over to the stove. He opened the lid and quickly dished it into a bowl. Before setting the bowl along with the spoon next to her, he grabbed a pillow from his steamer trunk and approached her. he grasped her shoulder and helped her sit up, she shivered at the feeling of his armored gauntlet supporting her. He placed the pillow behind her and handed her the bowl. With a quiet thanks, she began to eat the soup. It didn't taste bad, just, earthy, like nuts, spices, and kind of an beany flavor.

He smiled behind his mask when she ate it without any protests of taste. She seemed to be wholly focused on her food. He turned to walk towards the stairs of the bell tower, rifle, guitar, and amp. He was about to reach the stairs when her gentle, swiss voice broke the pregnant silence. "You never told me your name?" Not a statement, but a question, one she seemed an answer too, well, he'll get the ball rolling for her. "You can call me Pérdido.." With that he began his climb of the stairs, not bothering to look back for her reaction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: There is a song in here y'all should listen to if you don't already, Broken Bones by Kaleo, I played part of the chorus in yesterday’s chapter. Tell me what you guys think, there will be many trials they gotta face before one/both return to Watchpoint Gibraltar.

In The Heartland of the Australian Outback, 11:34 AM:

Angela squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to no avail to block out the sunlight gleaming in from cracks in the old tile roof. She sighed coming to the conclusion that sleep was futile. Tried to sit up but ultimately failed the first time. She tried again, grunting until she was in the upright position. She lifted her arms, stretching until her back popped, followed with a satisfied moan. She swung her legs over and hissed softly. Her legs and arms ached horribly, her chest felt tight, most likely because her ribs were bruised. She huffed and stood up, albeit wobbly for a moment, she quickly regained her footing. She looked to her right and was surprised to see her Caduceus Staff and her pulse pistol on the table. She looked around the quiet church and did not see the man who saved her last night. She approached and saw a note next to the pistol.

_Ma’am,_

_I trust by giving you back your gun, that you will not come to make me regret it. If I am needed, call for me, I am making ammunition out back. I have questions when you are ready. If you check the tub, I took the liberty of running you a hot bath, if you wake up before noon, it should still be tolerably warm. Breakfast is in the stove wrapped in tinfoil. Try not to fall again. My mama once told me angels belong in the sky._

_-Pérdido_

She eyed the last part, unsure of what to make of it. She supposed it was an analogy of sorts, though she was still thankful. She set the note back down next to her gun, and proceeded to the tub. She removed a glove and dipped a finger into the nearly full tub, she was happily surprised to find it very warm, almost hot. ‘ _Perfect, this will hopefully help ease the ache in my chest.’_ She quickly located a neatly folded towel on a stool next to the large tub. She shed her armor with haste and slipped into the tub. Spending a few minuets to simply soak in the warmth. 

As time passed, her thoughts drifted to firefight between her team and Talon the previous night. Winston had decided to check out old Overwatch bases for any potential resources, but unbeknownst to them, Talon had decided to do a sweep of the place for any Overwatch activity. They basically met each other at the gate, and at first sight, she knew how the battle would end up.

**_-LAST NIGHT-_ **

_“CONTACT!! TALON, EVERYWHERE!” Soldier 76, otherwise the old battle hardened soldier that was Jack Morrison, called out in distress. She activated her wings and landed beside him, dodging pulse rounds as they soared by, setting him with a damage boost. “Angela, luv? I could really use some help over here!!” Lena cried into the comms, Angela could hear the cracks of rifles both over her comms and in the distance. She took a deep breath and locked on to Lena Oxton, A.k.a Tracer’s signature and sped off with no time to spare._

_Tracer sped between two solders, pulse pistols aimed outward firing rapidly, dispatching the last of the enemy forces. She panted heavily, grimacing in pain from the three pulse rounds that went through her leg. She fell to a single knee and was trying to catch her breath when the alarmed voice of a worried Angela Ziegler tore her from her thoughts. “Lena! My goodness, are you alright?” She swiftly trotted to her and sent a healing beam in her direction. Lena caught her breath and stood smiling at the doctor half-heartedly. “I’m alright luv, just a little banged up from the fight, yeah? Where the bloody hell is Winston, we called for evac nearly ten minuets ago?” No sooner did a large Overwatch drop ship come into view, cargo doors already open, slowly lowering to the ground._

_“There they are! Gun them down, NOW!”_

_They duo didn't bother turning to face the yelling Talon agent, instead opted to run towards the drop ship. Pulse rounds began flying past them, many slamming into the hull of the drop ship. One lucky round unfortunately slammed home into the middle of the hydraulic piston that helped close the door. Lena and Angela were the last into the drop ship, diving in as the ship lurched forward trying to out run the forces. “Uhhh, Winston, buddy, we got a problem.” McCree said in a worried tone. They looked out at the slowly disappearing base, but noticed to fighters taking off in pursuit._

_“Winston luv! Lemme take the wheel, I’ll lose them!” She fought to get to the front, trying to move past all the other agents. Before she could make it up front, Winston turned back and yelled loudly, “BRACE YOURSELFS, TWO INCOMING MISSILES!” All the agents turned to see two missiles approaching quickly. Many choose that moment to hold on to something a seat, a pole, anything. She was already holding her pistol and staff, ‘Aww fu-‘ The closer missile suddenly exploded as they neared the chapel they saw as they entered the area. There was a cheer from various agents, but their cheers faded as the second missile flew out of the smoke of the first and hit the hull._

_*_ **_BOOM* “AHHHHHHH!”_ **

**_-Present-_ **

Angela sighed, another botched mission and now she was trapped in a god forsaken wasteland with some random stranger kind enough not to let her plummet to her death. With her communications being destroyed on the fall, there was little she could do without finding a major city to contact them. Her thoughts drifted to they mystery man, he wore a mask most of the time, rather quiet, polite, even more so for a waster, clean cut, at least hair wise, minus the medium thin gruff on his face, so he knew some type of hygiene, more so than JunkRat and RoadHog. 

‘ _He said he was a slave..that’s horrible. I wonder how he freed himself. He seems rather self sufficient, he said he was out back making ammunition. Not to mention he still uses old bullet cartridge guns, those weapons are so..barbaric. Pulse rounds are so much easier to treat.’_

She set down the bar of soap she had been using to clean her arms and legs. She reached for the metal bucket and dipped it into the warm water, before pouring it over her head, the warm water cascading down, releasing sweat, dirt, and other grime from her hair. She stepped out of the tub and grabbed the towel and wrapped it around her. 

‘ _Scheiße, where are fresh clo-‘_ She glanced and saw that on the far corner of the table, away from her staff and pistol, lay a smile pile of neatly folded clothes. She approached and was surprised at the mystery man’s choice. A pair of slim fit jeans, a pair of fresh socks, a sports bra and briefs still in a old clothing package, along with a a nearly white/magenta color button up blouse. ‘ _And he has some fashion sense too..huh.’_ As she adorned the clothing he had left out for her, she came to wonder two things, how he had clothes her size, and if she should even trust him. She rolled up the sleeves of the blouse to her elbows and faced a broken mirror in the corner, checking herself over in the new clothes. She smiled softly at the outfit. ‘ _Cute but professional, he knows my style and I'm sure he doesn't even know my name.’_ She supposed she would find out when they finally sat down for a chat. 

She found her hunger lacking at the moment, and decided to find Perdido and ask him some questions of her own. She sat down by the door and wrestled her combat heels I guess you could say. and stepped out into the desert sun, glaring down upon her harshly, she shielded her eyes and began making her way around back, following the side of the church producing the most shade. Behind the church a few meters away was a old wooden barn, two large doors meant for animals or cargo trucks, remained close in a ever vigilant effort to protect whatever it guarded.

She approached the door and could hear the whirring sound of machinery as well as a radio in the background. She heard his voice in a tone which she had never would associated his voice with; singing, rather passionately by the sound of it.

_“I've been down, deep Texas Mississippi state_

_Hoping things might go my way_

_For every hard earned dollar I make_

_There stands a white man just to take it away_

_Some might say I talk loud, see if I care_

_Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear_

_I've busted bones, broken stones, looked the devil in the eye_

_I hope he's going to break these chains, oh yeah!”_

_“The devil's going to make me a free man_

_The devil's going to set me free_

_The devil's going to make me a free man_

_The devil's going to set me free_

_(Yeah, set me free)”_

His voice was steady and to the note, catching each word he had heard a million times on the radio and played it with as much enjoyment as the first time he heard it. She thought about knocking before the singing man opened the massive doors with one mighty push, the up kick of wind and dust causing her to shield her eyes and cough. As the dust cleared his was almost right in front of her a look of surprise on his face, followed by a look of embarrassment, evident by a blush on his features. She giggled lightly impressed with his singing capabilities. He turned away, trying to hide his face, before standing up straight for her to true see him in the light.

He towered over her, clad in his signature duster and body armor, black combat pant, and boots. His forehead and chest gleamed from sweat building from being trapped in a tiny barn with heavy machinery and insulated armor. He wiped his forehead free of the sweat and looked at her outfit and smiling face, a picture he would later refer to in the future. Soon the smile faded and she crossed her arms.

“Mind explaining why you had clothes that fit me a little too well?” He remained stoic as he processed the question, a sad smile came over his features. “You seemed about the same size as one of my old traveling buddies. I had some of her left over clothes.” She raised a brow. “You have a companion around here?” His sad smile replaced with an angry scowl. “No, she’s dead, killed by slavers.” She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could, he brushed past, scowl still evident to her. She followed behind him and tried to apologize before she pissed him off too much. ‘ _Me and my big mouth, and I thought I was helping._ ’ “Perdido, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.” He ignored her and kept walking, she only closed to gap, to fall in line beside him. “I said I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.” She said, pleadingly this time, as she stepped in front of him.

He stopped and for a brief moment, preceptive turquoise met compassionate blue. She was sincere, he could see it. She truly wanted to help, no trickery, no blackmail, no malice at all, just compassion and care. He would look back and ask himself if this was the moment that _it_ happened, it would take him nearly his whole life to find out.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes during the process.“I forgive you, you knew nothing of her fate, my anger at your ignorance to this fact is unjust, and for that, I apologize.” She looked taken aback, clearly not expecting such an answer. He furthered his statement with; “I’m going to tell you more about myself in time, I do not receive company anymore, and I think it would be nice to share my story with someone. **_BUT-.“_** The abruptness of it caused her to flinch, “-If I ask you to leave something alone, please respect it. Now as for my questions, I’ll need you to follow me.” She said nothing, choosing to follow closely. He walked back around front to the doors before stopping to look at her with a small grin. “You like coffee?” She smiled in return.

-15 minuets later-

Angela and Perdido sat across from each other at the workshop table, blueprints and the fire pit separating them. Angela sipped her coffee, a hint of sugar, and a ton of cream, “Mein Gott, this coffee is excellent, Thank you Perdido. _”_ She said with a bright smile. _’For a waste lander, he sure knows his way around a kitchen.’_ He hummed and nodded thoughtfully, being careful not to burn himself with his black coffee. He set down the tin mug down and leaned forward propping himself up on the table and cleared his throat.

“Lets start with something simple, you know where you are, right? Because you must’a hit your noggin’ pretty hard to make one of those.” He motioned to her bandaged temple. “Yes I do indeed, we are in the Australian Outback.” He smiled, so this wasn't some ignorant traveler coming to “prove their worth”, only to end up dying in the wastes. 

“Alright, next question, I know your Overwatch, I’ve seen you on the posters at the old base and the brazzar, or in your tongue, marketplace. I want to know who in Overwatch you are, and why you were over at your abandoned base?” She hesitated, surprised he knew where they were last night. With the PETRAS Act still in place, any and all Overwatch activity is illegal, but would a waster go through the trouble of turning her in? No, he has been nothing but kind and trusting, minus scaring the shit out of her when they first met. 

“My name is Doctor Angela Ziegler, head of medical research at Overwatch, and we had plans of scavenging the old base for parts and other resources. Unfortunately we met a enemy terrorist cell at the gates, one by the name Talon. That’s why we had to leave in such a rush. Which leads me to a question of my own. What happened to the first missile, it blew up before it could hit us? I know you had something to do with it, you said you saw us at the old base, which means you either saw what happened to it, or were the one who stopped it.” She asked with skepticism. 

He smirked slightly, something with a boyish charm of Morrison, and a puckish rouge like McCree, it made her stomach flip unexpectedly. She blushed slightly before taking a deep breath, trying her best attempt at remaining professional, seeing as he was choosing to do the same. “I did see your group last night, I saw your friend in the drop ship show up a bit late to the party. As y’all left, I used my sniper to take down one of the missiles before it could come into contact with your ship. I would have destroyed the other if i could have, prevented you from being stuck in this hell hole.” She was curious when his face changed to that of regret. “This land is safe for no one, many have gone mad wondering these toxic lands. I wouldn't wish this fate upon my worst enemy…” 

He trailed off and looked down at the ground. For a moment she could see it, the old soul trapped in a young body, as well as the scared child underneath, a youth suppressed by torture and enslavement. His tired, almost lifeless eyes, dark circles surrounding them from countless hours of staying awake on watch. His scars, a light pink compared to his tan complexion. He looked up and met her eyes, and in the saddest voice she had ever heard, he asked softly; “Y-You’re a doctor, you..you fix people, can you..c-can you fix me? Make all the nightmares stop?” Hope evident in his voice. 

She softly laid down the mug and rounded the table, standing eye level with him, despite him sitting in the chair. His eyes still gleamed with that _fire_ she had seen in his eyes the night before. “I will do everything in my power to help you. No one should have to fight a place like this alone. I can even take you away from this place if you’d like?” 

The last question seemed to frighten him, his eyes wide, concern and worry evident in the way his eyes quickly avoided hers. She placed a hand on his that lie prone on the arm rest, clenching it rather tightly. The action caused him to flinch and look at their hands, she could sense how vulnerable he was, the idea being so inconceivable to leave the land he had come to call home. She watched as he attempted to calm himself with deep breaths, his sweating have increased dramatically. ‘ _Mein Gott, I think he’s having a panic attack. This subject is far more sensitive to him than at first glance. Perhaps he hadn't really considered his future beyond this place, or maybe he truly thought this place would claim him.’_ She kneeled beside him and began whispering softly trying to help calm the man in distress.

“Shhh…liebling, you are safe, no need to fear..shhhhh.” His eye were no longer open as wide, fluttering as a more stoic expression returned. She frowned at how quickly he’s trained himself to get over panic attacks, how often did that happen to him? He closed his eyes and placed his free hand atop of hers. “Thank you, Angela. You’ve given me hope I haven’t had in a long time. Let us finish our coffee and eat lunch, we still have to go to town.” She looked surprised to see him stand up, brushing off their earlier conversation. Althought she smiled as well, for she was going to help some _heal._ Someone who desperately needs it, and as the “best doctor in the whole wide world” as Lena put it, she was going to do everything she could to deliver on her word.

She grabbed his arm before he could fully walk away, quickly grabbing his attention, causing him to turn around. She pulled him into a light embrace. She could feel him hesitate before slowly returning the gesture, holding her lightly in his arm. She smiled up at him and walked into the kitchen, where an open window lit up Angela’s form as she approached the stove. He smiled and thought with a hint of wonder, ‘ _She really_ ** _is_** _an angel.”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Today’s Special: One trip to The Outback’s Market, a side of arena styled fight scene, and a scene with build up fluff, yay!

**Author’s Notes:** _Today’s Special: One trip to The Outback’s Market, a side of arena styled fight scene, and a scene with build up fluff, yay!_

In the Heart of the Australian Outback:

“Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle?” Pérdido asked without looking up from his repairs to said bike. Angela eyes seemed to widen in concern, she turned her head towards him, ponytail swishing slowly, she shifted from her spot upon the crate on the side of the church. 

“I always believed motorcycles to be dangerous. I never have, and hopefully will never have to.” She said with determination. He chuckled softly, expecting the answer already. “Well, that sucks for you, but I hope you don’t mind using me as a handlebar until I get my side cart fixed.” He gestured to an old world war two american side car for his old war time Harly WLA, coincidently, he found the cart and bike in tandem at the markets. She blushed lightly from his word choice, but he didn't seem to say it with any implications, so she remained quiet. 

“The cart is still missing a wheel and part of the hitch, we’ll pick up the parts today.” His rebreather making his sigh deep and prolonged. “These repairs should hold for a few weeks until I can get the right parts fixed up. I’ll need to make a scavenge run in the Dunes of the South.” She cocked her head in confusion and he stood up, using a rag to clean oil from his hands. “It’s a place to the south where a sea of sand stretches for miles in every direction. It became a dumping ground during the first Omnic Crisis, and connects directly to the main road out there, known as ’13 mile’. Almost every country in the world dumped them in the Outback.”

He had a small black duffle bag to his right, of which he grasped and hooked it to his bike. “Why did they pick the dunes to dump everything? The radioactivity some of the large omnics put off is incredibly dangerous, is that why you mentioned…rad-storms I believe is what you said?” She stood up from the crate and walked towards the motorcycle hesitantly. While busy studying it and before she could object, he approached her from behind and slipped a gas mask over her head. She turned around and heard him laugh. “You look ridiculous as hell.” He said with a deep, but happy chuckle. She merely giggled lightly, muffled more so by the mask. 

He stepped around her and settled onto the bike, she took her place behind him, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his barrel chested torso. Before she could prepare, he yanked the throttle and they were off, tearing up clouds of dirt in their wake. She screamed as he laughed, flying down the sudo driveway of Pérdido’s home, and reaching ’13 mile’. As the road meant less bumpiness and less him driving like a maniac, her screams replaced with heavy panting and tightly clutching his torso, and him still laughing loudly. 

“Aww man, that was *chuckles* that was hysterical.” He said as their speed came to rest at 55mph. “That most certainly was not funny, you scared me! For a moment, I thought I would be thrown from this infernal contraption from the way you took off like that. “No need to worry about fallin’ off, I’ll keep ya on board. ‘Sides, not like you need to be falling out of any more vehicles.” He chuckled behind his mask when she met him with a deadpan expression. 

“Well, besides food, parts, and and other essentials, is there anything else we are going to be doing at the market?” She raised a brown when he stopped looking over his shoulder and focused on the road. “You’ll get to see my performance..” Both brows raised now. “Your…performance? Like an act?” He shook his head. “Not entirely, I volunteer as a fighter for the local arena fights, they keep the money flowing, and since I’m undefeated, I earn more with each win.” She gasped audibly, even in the wind, he could hear it, full of concern and care. “That’s very dangerous! Are there no better ways to earn money, are their at least any rules?” She asked in fearful manner. He could only hum before replying, “No guns, don’t die, you do, you lose, you don’t, and you walk away with enough money for many weeks to come. I don't like fighting in the ring, much less killing people who are down on their luck, desperate like me with little to no other reputable skills. But out here, I was taught to do what it takes to survive, and if I have kill to live, I will.” 

She immediately rebutted; “But you have plenty of other skills! You could repair motorcycles or weapons, I saw you fiddling with that guitar and I know for _verdamm_ sure you can sing, even that is a marketable skill. Fighting will only hurt you and could possibly kill you!”

He smiled behind his mask, happy that she liked his singing, he also thought it was adorable when she cursed in her tongue, her accent making the words much softer than she intended them to be. “True, but I have a title to keep if I want the funding to get you past Junker territory, without them tryna kill us. I can tell you don’t like it either, but its the only way I’m going to make the money we need in time. It how I’m gonna get you home.”

She stayed silent, a frown plastered on her face, hidden by the mask. Part of her wondered when the time came, if he would choose to follow, to subject himself to a lifetime in the wastes. The ride continued for nearly ten more minuets before a town seeming almost entirely constructed of sheet metal came into view. He pulled up to an area where a few dozen different junk cars, trucks, bikes, and rigs were all pooled in a lot to the side of the tall rusted walls of the village.They departed the bike walking up to the entrance, Angela noticed that the primary visitor/residents of this little ramshackle village were people clad in make shift metal plate armor with a sword and shield emblem embezzled in random places on each person. She tensed as a hand grasped her forearm, but relaxed too it was Pérdido holding her arm, eyes still trained on the mass of shuffling people within its wall. “Stick with me and you’ll be fine, follow my lead or trouble will follow.” Before she could ask what he meant, he kept his hand wrapped lightly around her arm, more so guiding her than commanding her to follow. 

She could tell he was not used to having someone with him, he looked nervous, eyes shifting from person to person, only slowing for a quarter of a second to truly scan someone, then they darted to another person. He kept his pace ahead and walked through the noisy crowd, her still tightly in tow. He could see the building he was after, and quickened his pace. Angela stumbled at his speed, but managed to keep up.

As they reached the edge of the crowd, Angela yelped out in surprise as an open palm smacked her rear. “H-HEY!” She sharply turned around to see a skinny man, obviously drunk from the smell of whiskey and droop in his step. His makeshift plate armor orange in the sun from the heavy rust set in. “Oi! P-*hic*-Pretty bitch, you wanna *hic* come to my pl-lace, for a quick wank?” Though the mask hid most of her expression, he could see the shock and disgust evident in her eyes. 

‘ _Time to show this prick a lesson about humility.’_ Before anyone could react Pérdido had placed himself in between Angela and the drunk Aussie. With one swift motion, he unholstered his K-bar with his left hand, using his right to latch onto the drunks forearm and pull him forward. The drunk’s eyes widened as it met the knife, gurgling and coughing up blood as the knife was pull from the now blood squirting hole in his neck. He hands flew to the spot, trying to stop the steady flow of blood that came from between his fingers. Angela’s eyes widened in horror and gasped. She turned, frustrated tears threatening to come from her eyes, she punched his chest repeatedly, “Why would you do that?! He was just drunk! I could have handled him, you didn't need to kill him!” Two men clad in heavy metal armor approached, rifles pointed at Pérdido, they looked between the now lifeless man and the duo. When their eyes landed on Pérdido, their eyes softened and one came up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Another man try to take whats yours, eh Pérdido? Dumb bastard shoulda thought twice. Oh, and good luck on today’s match, I have three hundred credits running on you right now. We’ll take him.” 

The guards grabbed the corpse and began dragging it away, people had stopped paying attention and returned to their daily activities. Angela was still majorly upset, but also confused at how he managed to send the guards on their way without saying a word. She looked at through the mask; “Did you know them?” He shook his head. “No, most of the guards know me though, most of them have attended my fights since I was a boy.” He turned to look at her and was forced to stop. She looked angry, scared, frustrated, _even concerned._ “What’s wrong?” He asked quietly. “Y-you just killed that man, no hesitation. Is that how problems are dealt with out here? Just…death?” She seemed afraid of the answer. He quietly nodded, afraid internally of making her upset, but decided honesty was the best course of action. She lowered her gaze, she was thinking. She looked back at him and with a soft sigh said; “I know its what your used to, dealing with problems like that, but, at least for me, can you try not to be as…ruthless?” She looked scared, to even to ask seemed to bother her. “But..he was gonna touch you, do things to you. I-I’ve seen them do it to slaves and wanderers alike. Besides, he isn't important to me, you are. I wasn't about to let him defile you in such manner.” She was mortified by the information, but deep down, grateful about how passionate he felt about defending her and her honor. 

“We need to go now, the fight will start soon, and I need to be in there.” He pulled her arm and she followed him, walking to a set of steps that led to an underground area under another building, bright neon sights illuminating the entrance. He led her to a room that smelled of cigars and booze as she removed her mask, scrunching her nose in the process. He seem unaffected as he walked to a gated counter with an old man behind it. He didn't look up to address them. “If you are here for tickets, all sold out, if your here for betting, the counter is out near the main cage.” Pérdido cleared his throat and the old man looked up, he smiled at the sight of them. 

“PÉRDIDO! Hahahahaha! How are you lad? It’s been far too long!” The old man rounded the corner and met him with a one armed hug/hand shake. He looked at Angela and his smile was from ear to ear. “And you followed my advice and found yourself a beautiful girlfriend!” Pérdido flushed at the statement, trying to form some kind of reply. “I…I-I uhhh..”

He hadn't really considered Angela in such a manner, he was pretty straight forward. When he woke, he eats, he cleans, he works out/trains, he repairs, he eats again and goes to sleep. If shit happens in the middle, he’s likely not to think about it much. Even with Angela’s presence, knowing she would be staying for at least a month or two, felt that when the time came for her to go home, he would not go with her like she mentioned. The world beyond this desolate wasteland was _foreign,_ and that **terrified** him. All he knew was solving his problems by killing whatever put up resistance, and what Angela had asked earlier still shook him to his core.

_‘I know its what your used to, dealing with problems like that, but, at least for me, can you try not to be as…ruthless?’_

“Oh, n-no sir, we are not together, simply…t-traveling companions! Yes! We are traveling companions.” She said, obviously trying to keep a low profile. The old man merely chuckled. “Hahahaha! Sure you are! Just watch yourself around this one, he may be quiet, but he is deadly, no?” He turned and gestured to the door behind the counter. “Come! Come! How long has it been since you’ve been here, lad? Two months, three months now? Shit, I’m getting old, bah! Anyways, you are in for a show tonight, plenty of the regular chopped liver your used to.“ Angela cringed at the word choice. _‘Are these people’s lives only worth a quick buck around here?’_ The old man continued. “But tonight, you’ll be getting to see an old rival, settle that score you and him had, yes?” Angela noticed Pérdido froze at the older man’s words, and slowly turned to face him, most of his expression hidden behind the mask. 

“Babar, am I fighting Rusty tonight?” He said in a very cold and hostile tone, one that made the older man, now known as Babar stepped back once. “W-well yes, he volunteered, you know I can’t do anything about that.” He raised his hands in defense. Pérdido sighed softly, and walked to a locker, removing his duster and placing it inside. He did not look at Babar as he spoke. “Sir, I’d like a moment alone with my companion.” Babar straightened and made way for the door quickly, giving him a last look of sorrow and regret. The door closed with a soft click.

Angela made her way over to him, sitting on the bench in front of his locker. “What do you want to talk about, Pérdido?” He sighed and said nothing for a moment, deciding if he should burden the woman with his problems, and decided against it. “Nothing, I was angry and I have come to learn that I seem to be calmer when in your presence. For some reason.” It was true and logical, he felt calm around her, she seemed so nice, hell part of him really did think she was an _angel_. His eyes shown that he was still scowling as he said it, his mind still trapped with the idea of fighting an old rival. “Who is rusty?” She asked quietly. He had finally finished unclipping his armor and set it inside the locker, taking off his white, yet oil and blood spotted tank top, revealing a ripped chest muddled and _torn_ with jagged scars. She gasped at the pure number of them, and the damage of some… ‘ _It must have been unbearable, and to have to suffer it as a child no less.’_ He turned to look at her, having finally removed his mask, nothing on but black combat pants and black combat boots. 

“It was a bit over seven years ago, one of my owners left the group, left us to starve since we were considered runts of the litter, he made his profit though, and turned to arena fighting. Fought him here about a year and a half back I think. Fight ended in a tie, us both unconscious with our hands around each other’s throats. When I woke up, he had taken his half of the jackpot and left, without as much as a word. He must have been making his way around Australia, fighting everywhere he can. He’ll have gotten better, I-I need to do my warm up.” He was no longer focused on her, more so on the fight ahead. 

She watched him take boxer’s tape and wrapping both fists, he walked to spot on the wall, a circle of something…brown where he began punching the concrete. ‘ _Oh my, thats dried blood…’_ She thought with sadness. She looked around the dingy concrete room, posters of partially nude women as pin-ups and calendars were scattering the walls, old workout equipment sat rusted and untouched lie in the corner, the florescent light above them barely making it visible from the corner. She didn’t know how long he’s had to fight here, but this could not be a healthy environment for anyone. So much of her wanted to convince the man to leave this place, and she could easily recall how much he hesitated when she brought it up. The fear in his eye at leaving the Outback. She wondered if their would be any convincing him. Her thoughts transferred to Babar’s words from earlier. 

‘ _And you followed my advice and found yourself a beautiful girlfriend!’_

Girlfriend, now she hasn't been lucky enough to hold that title for more than a few years now, being 34, she hasn't had a ‘boyfriend’ since before she joined Overwatch at 21. Mind you, she had her work to keep her busy, and that blasted _fling_ with Reyes. But alas, she has been without the company of another on a more personal level for years, _and yet…_ When Babar said that, her mind made the connection, and _holy fuck,_ she liked it…a lot. He held so many different traits than her old courters; he was, in a primal sense, a survivalist. He attacked everything with simple logic, he stated things as fact without worry of the consequence, he was not the most intelligent, but enough so in all major areas where she would imagine he’s about average if not slightly below average. Minus his obvious skills, cooking, repairing, _combat…_

***CRUNCH***

The sound pulled her from her thoughts, and whipped her head in his direction. He stood at the wall, panting heavily, his fist and hand firmly inside the cinderblock that he had been punching. He held the position turning his head just enough to meet her gaze. ‘ _Strong…don’t want to forget that.’_ But soon the look of shock faded and was replaced with concern. She quickly sat up and approached him, standing to the right of his right arm that was planted within the block. She grabbed his arm and slowly pulled it, watching the dust that didn't cling to his arm, slowly drift to the floor. Soon, his arm was free, she held his hand within her looking for an injury, broken hand, torn knuckles, something. It took her a moment to notice he was staring at her, their eyes locking. She didn’t release his hand, merely held it tighter. 

_“You need to be more careful libeling, why must you be so angry?”_ She whispered softly, taking in his exhausted face. “ _Pain makes you stronger, keeps you on your toes, shows dominance, who is the alpha.”_ He whispered in turn, soft and gentle, despite its deep and raspiness. She blushed at the statement, he was oblivious to its alter meaning. She brought a hand up and placed it on the side of his face, a movement that caused him to flush red as well. “ _Please be safe, libeling, you aren't the only person who cares about you anymore.”_ His smile brightened at the last statement. They embraced shortly, he taking his time, enjoying the feeling of her frame against his. Such an odd and distant feeling arises in his chest when she touches him, and he still cannot place it.

“OI! Pérdido, you got a show to do my man, get to your- Oh! I’ll leave you two to finish up.” Babar said as he spotted them. Angela was quick to exit the embrace, not noticing the sad look in Pérdido’s eyes. “Please, call me Angela, could you show me to a seat?” Babar smiled and held the door open for her, letting her pass through. She stopped to look at him, their eyes met and mouthed the words; ‘ _Good luck’_. He smiled as she left and headed to the cage.

_______________________________________________________________________

Angela sat close to the ring, watching the sandy pit with six concrete pillars with quiet, intensity. Soon the loud clash of a bell being rung caused her to look up at the announcers booth. A booming voice rang out, male in its origin. 

“ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES! TONIGHT, A TRUE SHOW OF STRENGTH, OUR CHAMPION RETURNS! THE MYSTERY MAN THAT CAME TO US FROM THE DISTANT HAZE OF THE WASTES, THE ONE, THE ONLY, PÉRDIDO!!!” A roar of applause was the result, many of the people here must have known, and possibly have betted on him winning. Soon, one of the large junk garage style doors opened, seven men walking out. Six stood in a circular formation around the one in the middle, chains and metal restraints of all sizes and types adorned his body, making basic movement nearly impossible. She watched on in horror at what was about to happen. ‘ _They are treating him like some attack dog, making him put on and act, then to kill! This place is horrible. How many times has he had to do this?’_ She could almost see his expression, mostly covered by his rebreather and the giant spiked collar that was currently being removed by two of the men, he didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to fight, not in the slightest.

“AND OUR FIRST VICTIMS..ERR..I MEAN CONTENDERS OF THE NIGHT, THE OLD ALPHA SQUAD OF THE NORTH, THE TEAM THAT STOLE FROM THE QUEEN OF JUNKERTOWN HERSELF, I PRESENT TO YOU, FOXTROT SQUAD!!!” This time a considerably quieter amount of cheering, the audience clearly had a preference. Soon the other large doors opened and a team of five men, all wearing what looked like some scrapped combat armor. The all held various melee objects, bats, crowbars, a machete, one even held what looked to be a staff made of metal, the end coming to a point, like a pike. The men drew closer to the center, Pérdido mirroring there actions. She could see some of the younger men on the other team lean back in hesitation, when she looked at her “travel companion”, she could see why. He looked intimidating as fuck. Towering over the tallest of his competitors, clad in his black rebreather, combat pants and boots, small lengths of chain wrapped around each arm and a single length of thick chain wrapped around his neck, his eyes pointed in a heated glare at the six men standing between him, and round two.

“ ** _FIGHT!_** ”

Time slowed down to him, his enemies spotted, adrenaline kicking in. ‘ _Remember training, weapons=opportunity, numbers=aggression and fatal single blows, relatively revealing armor=open to blades. The pike is my best bet.’_ Pérdido did not hesitate, launching like a rocket as the word had been spoken. In a second flat, he was upon the first man and effortlessly snapped his neck watching emotionlessly as the corpse crumpled to the sandy floor. He dived under the swing of bat from the second man and flipped over, preforming a kick mid summersault, landing with the head of the third approaching man, sending him to the floor. As he came back up, the bat was already being swung a second time, he blocked it with his chain wrapped left arm, grabbing the bat and pulling it hard from the second man’s hands. The man looked at Pérdido in fear as the bat came down on his head. * ** _CRACK*_** The sound reverberated around the arena, a quick spray of red shown a broken, splintered bat, and blood that peppered him and the ground around a man with _his head nearly split in two_. He could hear the third man recovering and the other three’s feet pounding the sand, trying to rush him from behind. 

He turned in a flash, using the long lengths of chain in a similar way Widowmaker had been known for using her grapple. Guiding the charging man’s pike into the ground, his chain wrapped tightly around it. The charging man’s momentum caused him to fly right into his enemy’s well placed kick to his knee in it’s side. A sickening crack could be heard as he tripped over the chain he cunningly held out to assist in his fall. Pérdido yanked the pike free and with a quick thrust/yanking motion, planting and removing the pike from the back of the man’s head before he landed. He heard the other two reach him, using the pike for assistance he blocked the oncoming attacks of the two men, one armed with a baton, the other a machete. The defensive blocks unleash a veal of sparks with nearly every clash. 

He blocked two simultaneous strikes with one block, using the moment of opportunity, like a predator marks his prey, he slammed the pointed end into the first man’s eye, it sunk in until the end reached the back of his skull. The pike freed itself as his rag dolled form fell, the other man had recovered and swung his baton down, only to hit air as Pérdido dodged with a spin, planting the pike into the baton wielder’s side, through his ribbs and deep into the torso, he pulled it free with a mighty heave, choosing to roll backwards with the momentum. At an opportune time as well, the bat wielder from earlier having picked up and tried to bash Pérdido’s head in with his dead friend’s crowbar. He recovered from the roll and held the pointed end at him. The man roared, tears staining the bat wielders face running towards him, crowbar raised to strike. He was met with the pike underneath his chin and into his skull.

**“WE HAVE A WINNER FOR ROUND ONE! PÉRDIDO THE CHAMPION!”**

The audience lost it, screaming and cheering could be heard, the very few boo’s being drowned out by the cheers of the rest. Angela watched him in awe, as the spotlight lit up his form, his arms rose egging the crowd to cheer more. His eyes showed disgust. He turned scanning the crowd, looking for her. His eyes soon landed on her, they stared for a moment, she smiled at him softly, trying to reassure him. She could sense that her discomfort of their lifestyle was foreign to her as leaving was to him, she didn't want to make him feel worse for doing something he didn’t want to do in the first place.

**“UP NEXT, THE FORMER SLAVE OWNER, AND THE OUTBACK LEGEND, JUNKMASTER HIMSELF, HERE FOR A REMATCH FROM LAST YEAR’S BATTLE, GIVE IT UP FOR, RRRRRRUUUUUUSSSSSTTY!!!!!”**

This time, the crowd seemed to have an almost 50/50 preference in this fight, many more fans of the old slave owner. The junk doors opened and revealed a man in an old torn SWAT gear, a rusted, but rather bulky exosuit strapped to his body. He stepped towards the ring and approached where Pérdido stood. The older man, known as rusty stepped forward, his frame shook with laughter upon sight of the young man. “Long time, no see, boy. Shouldn’t you be out in the junkyards? Picking scrap for me like you and your whore mother did when you were still a little brat. You should have just died the first time like I told ya, I wouldn’t have to punish you now, ya hear? You never was one for listen’n.” Angela watched his fists clench tightly. The entire place was silent. 

**_“FIGHT!”_ **

Rusty’s suit released two long whips from each gauntlet, a crackle of electricity bringing them to life. He showed Pérdido a wicked grin, one he remembered from his youth, the grin he got whenever that man was about to beat someone. Rusty used the hydraulic assistance of the eco to propel himself forward, wrapping the whips around Pérdido’s torso. The electricity only increased, stray bolts and sparks occasionally pelting the sand. He bellowed,the pain was mind consuming, trying and failing to rip the whips off. He fell to his knees splashing up sand in the process, the bellowing turned to a roar. He began standing back up, albiet slowly, the grin disappearing from Rusty’s wrinkled face. He received a vicious glare from Pérdido as the man fought through the pain being delivered to him. He used all his might to start running directly at Rusty, the man in an act of fear, kicked the voltage to its max power, but he did it a little too late as Pérdido made contact and a bright flash followed by a deafening blast. 

Angela covered her eyes at the light, but as it dimmed, her eyes shot to the smokey arena, scanning for any signs of Pérdido. As the dust and smoke cleared, the prone form of Rusty could be seen on the ground unmoving, smoke bellowing from his exo as well as his skin. Pérdido stood not a foot a way, revealing him holding the pike, ready to impale the downed man’s head. He glanced over his shoulder, looking at Angela, their eyes locked. 

_‘I know its what your used to, dealing with problems like that, but, at least for me, can you try not to be as…ruthless?’_

He sighed and tossed the pike aside. He looked up and roared not a suggestion, but a demand. **“** ** _HE YEILDS.”_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check out Hozier’s song; Arsonist’s Lullaby, I put his real name in the chapter for proper credit. Pérdido sings it this chapter. I suggest you play it and read that part of the song at the same time. This is the following night.

In the heart of the Australian Outback:

The large wooden doors to Pédido’s home swung inwards, revealing Angela carrying several bags, huffing as she brought them to the table. Pérdido followed Angela, albeit slower, with a slight limp, caring his black duffel bag, as well as a few plastic bags of his own. He set them on the workshop table and did not look at Angela when he spoke. “Do you like tea?” 

She looked at him, his back still facing her as he quietly pulled groceries from the bags and placed them on the table. She had too many questions, where did he learn to fight in CQC like that, why did he try to do some crazy ass kamikaze to kill Rusty, why…? She wanted answers, and she wanted him to stop, if only for a moment, and examine what this land has done to him. 

“Yes, I would love some, if you are offering.” He nodded softly, she watched his walk over to the corner locker, slowly peeling the dirty duster and armor, his shirtless form approached fire pit, he stuck his head underneath and not a moment later, a hiss could be heard, before a ball of flame illuminated the room. He stood up, his torso now in light of the fire. She gasped in horror, her hands flying to cover her mouth.

After the battle, he had met her in the locker room where they had departed, already in his armor, itching to get what they needed and leave. She never had time to see the extent of the damage, having hid his pain behind a blank expression, one of a person too deep in thought to be brought back. She saw how the the open wounds snaked around his waist and up his chest, some stopping at his neck, some down his arm. He continued to stare, the mask’s shadow blocking his turquoise eyes from her view. 

She looked to her left, scanning the room for her staff, and found it on the table next to her pulse pistol. She rounded to table as fast as her stumbling legs would let her, she grasped it and came back around. Pérdido did not know the staff’s use, assuming it to be a weapon, he instantly too a defensive position, fists raised in a block, an action guided by fear and his current weakened condition. 

Angela froze when she saw this, she kept the staff by her side. “W-what are you doing?” She asked, fear in her baby blue eyes. He kept his eyes on the staff. “I could ask you the same thing.” She followed his eyes before realizing his thought process. “N-No! I wouldn’t hurt you like that Pérdido! I promise you, this staff is what I use to heal people, I want to help you, _please Pérdido…”_

Her soft voice guided his hands back down by his side, losing the defensive position. She approached slowly and raised the staff slowly, she could only give him a look of sadness as he flinched. Her finger wrapped around the staffs trigger, she watched as a gold beam flew towards him, he gave a sharp gasp. He watched with wonder, as the golden light enveloped him, slowly healing his wounds. The long thin burns circling up his form closing from the good doctor’s nano technology.

The golden light faded, and Pérdido ran his hand along his scarred chest. He looked up at her, an amazingly bright smile on his face, and with child-like wonder and curiosity, he spoke with a whisper; “ _You really are an angel…”_ She blushed at his comment before rebutting softly. “I’m no angel, just a doctor who wants to help.” 

The wonderment never left his eyes. He said nothing as he rushed forward pulling Angela in a tight embrace, the hug held a peculiar warmth to the both of them, one Angela recognized, and one Pérdido had still not figured out. She let him hold her, returning the hug with equal strength, giving a shaky sigh in pleasure as her body fell in line with his. 

He leaned back, his hands atop her shoulders. “I think you and I have earned a warm cup of tea, and a good song, don’tcha ya think?” She smiled warmly, her blush mostly hidden from the soft orange glow of the fire to their side. 

He walked towards the cast iron stove and placed a metal kettle onto the stove and began preparing tea for the both of them. ‘ _He certainly seems a bit more cheery.’_ She looked around for a padded chair or couch and found none. “Do you have anywhere I can sit that’s not a stool?” She asked timidly, she didn't want to be a nuisance. He perked up and looked at her, he smiled softly before speaking; “Of course, give me just a minuet.” 

He walked to the right side of his table, where several boxes lay. He shuffled about moving the boxes out of the way, revealing a spot about 12 feet of open space. He held up a finger in her direction, and made the ‘come here’ motion. She followed him outside the church and around back towards the barn. 

The soft glow of the moon illuminating the barn. Pérdido approached the large doors and yanked them open, revealing his currently quiet workshop. She looked on at the strange machinery, not watching Pérdido as he grabbed a medium sized couch, throwing his arms around it in some kind of bear hug, lifting it with a large heave. She turned and saw him attempt to rest the couch on his shoulder comfortably without the cushions falling off. 

“Pérdido! You could have asked for help!” She said with exasperation. He merely chuckled and threw her a quick grin. “Eh, it isn't that heavy, just cumbersome. You mind getting the doors for me? I can’t exactly reach it.” 

She rushed to the barn door, eager to help him. She found the barn doors to be much denser than she had originally thought, finding them to be very difficult to open. She had to use all her strength as well as her body weight to get it open. She watched with her mouth slightly ajar at how fluidly moving he was, even when held down by the weight of something she knew for a fact a normal person could not lift on their own.

They made their way back inside, Pérdido choosing to drop the couch right into its new spot, kicking up a small cloud of dust. He fell down onto it was a relaxed sigh, smiling up at Angela, who stood with her arms crossed, a small smile on her face. “And here I thought you got that couch for me.” She said jokingly. He swung his form up, and in a dramatic act of presentation, he gestured to the couch, a smug smile still on his face. She giggled and took a seat, sighing at the softness the cushions provided. 

When she looked back in his direction, he was already at the stove, pouring two steaming cups of tea. He set down the kettle and grabbed both tea cups, bringing them over, setting his on the workshop table and gently handing her cup of tea. He walked over to his steamer trunk and removed his guitar and amp, bringing them to the couch. 

He sat down a little ways from her on the other end of the couch. He plugged his guitar into the amp and flipped the ‘on’ switch for the amp. He plucked the strings and began tuning the guitar for a deeper tuned song. He looked at Angela, a slight upward curve to his mouth. 

“This is a song an old friend named Andrew Hozier-Byrne taught me in my early days of being a free man. It’s called Arsonist’s Lullaby.” He strummed the song and began humming softly to match his tune. The strumming took form as a blues/folk/rock tone.

_“When I was a child, I heard voices_

_Some would sing and some would scream_

_You'll soon find you have few choices_

_I learned the voices died with me.”_

He stared into the flame of the fire pit as he continued.

_“When I was a child I'd sit for hours_

_Staring into open flames_

_Something in it had a power_

_Could barely tear my eyes away.”_

The strumming quickened and he closed his eyes and sang.

_“All you have is your fire_

_And the place you need to reach_

_Don't you ever tame your demons_

_But always keep them on a leash.”_

He hummed for a moment longer, eyes slowly opening and focusing on his armor. Angela’s eyes were wide, hearing him sing was amazing, his voice was angelic.

_“When I was 16 my senses fooled me_

_Thought gasoline was on my clothes_

_I knew that something would always rule me_

_I knew this scent was mine alone.”_

He stood slowly taking a step towards where the fire pit was, his silhouette covering almost all of Angela.

_“All you have is your fire_

_And the place you need to reach_

_Don't you ever tame your demons_

_But always keep them on a leash.”_

He sung loudly, the passion he put in his music, clear in his voice.

_“When I was a man I thought it ended_

_When I knew love's perfect ache_

_But my peace has always depended_

_On all the ashes in my wake.”_

He turned and strummed slowly as he faced her.

_“All you have is your fire_

_And the place you need to reach_

_Don't you ever tame your demons_

_But always keep them on a leash.”_

She watched him with wide eyes, full of admiration at such dedication to one of the arts, a theatrical one at that. He set the guitar down and sat down next to her, looking rather timidly. “So? What did you think?” He asked quietly. 

It took her almost a full minute to respond. “ _That was incredible libeling.. Where did you learn to sing like that?”_ Her whisper carried sending shivers down Pérdido’s spine. “I found that singing makes me feel good. So I sing songs I know, or have heard on the radio, and I learned how to play guitar later on, figuring my singing sounded better with something to back it up.” He made it seem so simple, but if her attempt to learn guitar in college taught her anything, its that guitars require a certain level of dexterity that she simply did not possess. 

_‘I wonder what else those fingers are capable of..”_ She flushed red at the dirtiness of her own mind, she yelped involuntarily. He looked surprised when she brought her hand to her face to cover it from him. 

“Are you alright Angela? What happened?” He seemed concerned, as if she was hurt. She could only giggle in response, her mind not letting her form a proper rebuttal, she merely patted the spot next to her. His concern was replaced with content, he grabbed his mug and settled next to her. 

They both sipped their tea, and began sharing tales, some tall, some short, about her time in Overwatch, and his time in the wastes. Their talk lasted deep into the night, each of them too enthralled with their tales to notice how late it was, until…

“Shit! It’s nearly one in the morning!” Pérdido stated with shock and frustration. He turned to her and offered a sad smile. “We should probably hit the hay, would you like the pallet or couch?” She spralled out on the couch, her legs resting in Pérdido’s lap. “Does this answer your question, libeling?” He chuckled at her answer. “I keep hearing you say that, libeling. What does it mean?” Her smile grew slightly. “It has several meanings; darling, sweetheart, honey, favorite. Hmmm, pop quiz! Do you know what nationality I am?“ 

He pondered for a moment before chuckling. “You know, I asked myself that same question literally moments after I caught you, and you asked who I was. I came up with either german or swiss.” 

She laughed heartily, “My mother was swiss, and my father german. I assume you’ve met people of similar ilk in your travels?” He smiled and nodded. “I’ve met people from around the world, heard tales, but…never seen it.” His smile faded, as did hers. 

“Have…Have you considered what I asked? About coming with me? Leaving this place behind?” She asked with hesitation. He froze, tensing harshly. She feared this reaction, but chose to remain still, awaiting his answer. He sighed placing both hands on her legs, mentally grounding himself using her presence, like he did earlier today when confronted with the question. 

In all honesty, it would normally take him a good amount of time to recover whenever a panic attack struck, but this morning, her presence made him calm down in mere seconds. He felt his heart rate return to normal, and met her gaze. “I have, but I would like to think more about it. I will know in time.” He said, confidence returning to his voice. 

She pondered his statement before her expression took on a darker look, a question in her mind had resurfaced. “ _What were you thinking earlier?”_

She asked softly, anger clear in her voice. He was baffled at the sudden hostility. “W-What? What are y-you talking about?” She sat up, looking at him directly. “Why did you run at Rusty? Was it supposed to be apart of the act? Was it anger? Why, why would you be…b-be so d-damned self d-destructive!?” 

The anger had switched to rage, then to sadness. She hadn’t noticed the tears slowly trailing down her cheeks. “You could have died! Do you even realize that what you did was incredibly dangerous?!” Tears stained her cheeks, she furiously wiped them away, choking sobs began racking her body. Pérdido’s bewilderment had been replaced with concern and regret. 

“I-I’m sorry Angela! I didn't think it would bother you this much. I ne..I never meant to hurt your feelings.” He said placing a hand on her shoulder. She pushed herself into him, clinging to him for support. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, allowing her tears to drip onto his dirty t-shirt. 

After minuets of sobbing, she quieted down, wiping her eyes, trying miserably to collect herself. “Y-You didn’t hurt my feelings, libeling. Since I’ve met you, I could see how hard you’ve worked to get where you are. You’ve suffered more in your short years more than most of the soldiers I knew did in their entire career. I see a beautiful innocence in you, masked by such a high level of maturity. I worry what staying here would have in store for you. You said it best yourself. ‘I wouldn’t wish this fate upon my worst enemies.’ You deserve so much better, so much more than what this land has offered you. You are still so young, and I fear this land will swallow you whole, and _I fear you will let it.”_ She pulled the embrace tighter, refusing to let go.

He grasped her hands and brought them up, causing her to look up at them, refocusing her attention on his face, he kissed her knuckles lightly, causing her face to flush. 

“You have done more for me in the past forty eight hours than most have in my entire life. You’ve shown me a kindness I rarely receive, and you give it so freely, and… _with such sincerity._ You are so compassionate about helping people, and I’ve quite frankly have never met anyone like that before. I wanted to say…thank you, for being so kind to me.” She looked at him in awe. _‘There’s that child like innocence again.’_ She rested her head in the crook of his neck, enjoying his warmth of his body against hers. 

“ _No need to thank me libeling, but you can do me a favor..”_ She whispered close to his ear. He shivered, hands tightening around her on instinct. Before his mind could come to a conclusion, something blocked his vision, an empty tea cup, Angela’s empty tea cup to be more specific. 

He sighed with exasperation, but now smiling, grasping the cup from her hand and standing up. She watched him walk away, to pour her a new round of tea. She smiled at his muscular back, given more definition by the fire, despite being covered. 

He returned a moment later with another steaming cup, handing it to her slowly. “Careful, It’s awfully hot. By the way, while we were at the market, I picked you up some sweat pants to sleep in! Comfiness in mind of course. I probably should have picked you up some shirts while I was at it, huh? Damn, I guess you can use mine if you’d like?” 

He seemed bummed out that he had forgotten something on his internal grocery list. She smiled at him regardless. “Your shirts will be _more_ than adequate, Pérdido. Is there a place I can change?” She asked with curiosity. 

He met her question with a nervous chuckle. “Well, usually its just me here, so I didn't need that kind of privacy, hell, I don’t even have a bathroom, just an out house. But if you’d like, I can step outside while you change, It will give me a chance to smoke a cigar and enjoy the fresh air.” 

She gave him a deadpanned expression. “You do know how ironic that is, right?” He laughed fully this time. “Oh I know, but to me, its something about the combination.” She merely shook her head. ‘ _Jesse would love him.’_

He smiled at her, turning to walk to the locker in the corner, he pulled out a large flannel, button up and cigar from his cigar box, and closed the locker. He turned and approached the table, grabbing a plastic bag and removing a pair of sweat pants. He brought them to her, setting them down on the couch. He smiled and nodded before exiting the church, stepping out into the frigid nighttime air of the Outback. 

After smoking his cigar, he dropped it to the dirt, stepping on it. He pushed the door open, his eyes falling on Angela, instantly he burst into laughter. She stood in front of the couch, clad in his oversized shirt, and the sweatpants were so large, she was forced to hold them by the elastic band, her face flushed red with embarrassment. 

His laughing ceased as he approached her. “Do you want something to hold them up?” She nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak. He walked to the table opening a small, red toolbox upon it. He pulled out a single, long length shoelace, closed the box and came back up to her. 

He fell to a single knee in front of her, taking the elastic band from her grasp. He pulled a small utility knife from his pocket and he cut open slits in the elastic, and began feeding through the lace. She blushed as he stood up, seemingly unfazed by their closeness and the fact he had complete control wether her pants fell down or not. 

He reached around her to continue the lacing. He fell back to his knee, pulling it all the way through, and tied a knot on the lace, acting as a sudo belt. He tugged the band around her waist, its elastic capabilities reduced by the new, sturdy lace belt she adorned. 

She smiled at him, a look of gratitude and appreciation. He returned it, looking up at her before standing, once again towering over her. “Its time we hit the hay, so, Goodnight Angela.” He turned to walk away when he felt her grasp his wrist. ‘ _What am I doing? Don’t ask him anything that makes you look stupid!’_ “Would you…keeping me _company_ tonight?” ‘ _Smooth move Doctor Dumbass.’_ She cringed internally awaiting his answer, but was surprised by his response. 

“I..sure, w-why not?” He walked to the table, leaning underneath to turn out the fire. He stood back up when almost complete darkness enveloped the room. He could see his outline guide her to the couch before kicking off his boots and laying down on it, gesturing her to do the same. 

As she laid down, his body slowly encompassing hers, a flood of emotions struck her. Many memories she had of the few relationships she was apart of, when she would lie with her partner, holding her, a feeling she missed deeply till this moment. _‘I could get used to this.’_ She thought, as her eyelids began to feel heavier. She heard Pérdido say one more thing before darkness took her. “ _Goodnight Angela, sweet dreams.”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember to rate and review, I want y’alls feed back. Y'all are gonna meet a special someone in today's chapter. Today's special: NEW OC!

**In the Heart of the Australian Outback Wasteland:**

About four days had passed since Angela’s arrival, they had made a nightly routine of tea, a song, long talks, before falling asleep in his arms. But this morning, something was different, she felt like there were eyes on her, eyes that did not belong to Pérdido. She opened her eyes and was met with an odd sight. 

A young, lean, but still rather muscular, latino man with short, spiked, black hair, in boxers and tank top sat on the workshop table, eating strips of beef jerky. He looked directly at her and spoke. “ _Hola señorita.”_

He waved at her. Her reaction made him swing back in surprise as she screamed. Pérdido, who was resting behind Angela, flailed in his spot as her scream ripped him from his peaceful rest. He grabbed a 1911 he kept stashed in-between the cushions, and jerked it in the direction Angela faced.

As soon as Pérdido’s eyes landed on the man, he sighed loudly. “Ramirez, you scared the shit out of me, don’t you know how to **_fucking_** knock?” 

Both of them were sitting up, Angela looked warily at him, but Pérdido’s face shown that of irritation, although a playful glint in his eyes. Ramirez laughed before walking forward. “ ** _HAHAHA_** , you should have seen your **faces** though, that shit was priceless. And what happened to _mi casa, tu casa?_ You said that this place is always an open door for me. Well, I thought I’d drop by and make myself comfy, plus I kinda…pissed off the queen of Junker town, and those assholes are still hunting me.” He said with a shrug, taking another bite of the jerky.

“Pérdido, what’s going on, who is this?” Angela asked with bewilderment. Pérdido chuckled before standing up and stretching. “Hunnnngh…..ahhhh, He’s an annoyance, but a damn good poker player, and even better gun.” 

Ramirez in mock offense, leaned back putting his hand on his chest. “And I thought we were _hermanos_! That hurts me, really tears me up inside.” He fake wiped and tear before standing sharply and walking over to Angela, holding his hand out to her. 

“My name is Abel Aurelio Ramirez, born and raised wastelander along side your very own “ _companion_.” I see you followed Babar’s advice.” He said with a grin, still facing Angela.

She shook his hand promptly, he put emphasis on companion, turning and grinning at Pérdido afterwards. He merely sighed again, a small smile on his face. “We aren’t dating Ramirez.”

Ramirez threw his head back in laughter, “Oh really, is that why sleeping blondie here was practically moaning you name in her sleep. ‘ _Oh Pérdido, ohh yeaahh.”_ He made a lewd thrusting monition with his hips. Pérdido and Angela’s face flushed red. 

Angela retorted with a weak; “H-Hey!” and threw a pillow at him. He caught it mid air and laughed even harder. “Oh man, she’s a feisty one for sure. You never told me your name, chica?” 

She huffed before standing and walking to the table, where her clothes for today lie. “My name is Doctor Angela Ziegler.” She didn't bother looking at him, still trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. “You said you grew up together, were you a slave like him?” She asked, trying to change the subject. 

He scoffed at her question and walked to Pérdido and patted him on the shoulder. “What brother, you not tell her anything about me? Hell no amiga, my dad was once his last owner, but we became fast friends, one day after watching this kid get the shit kicked out of him by my dad, some clients, and nearly all the guards during the trials, I broke his dumb ass out, and we hit the road. We split up to do jobs, but this is essentially as much my home as it is his.”

Pérdido raised a brow. “What the fuck did you do to help me set this place up?” Ramirez merely chuckled, and walked to the entrance, opening the door, and letting the frigid wind cause his boxers to flap in the wind. 

He held up two cigars and motioned for him to follow. “Let your _amor,_ get changed with some privacy.” Angela shivered instantly as the wind hit her, despite being clad in Pérdido’s oversized flannel and her raggedy sweatpants. Pérdido, still shirtless and seemingly unaffected by the cold wind, walked to where Ramirez stood, plucking a cigar from his grasp and walking outside, closing the large doors. 

They walked just past the shadow cast by the bell tower, basking in the warmth of the morning sun. They shared and glance, each mouthing a count down, ‘ _3…2…1…light.’,_ and lit their cigars simultaneously. 

Pérdido broke the silence. “So how was your most recent job?” Ramirez shrugged and smirked slightly, “Same old, same old, minus getting to work along side a absolutely bitchin’ hot Overwatch agent!” 

He turned and yelled the last part, excitement clear on his face. Pérdido chuckled before asking; “You do know that Angela in there is Overwatch right?” Ramirez’s face changed to one of shock. “Holy shit, amigo, were you sharing a bed with **the** Mercy?” He simply nodded, his smirk growing as he puffed the cigar. He turned to Ramirez; “Which one did you fight with?” Ramirez smiled heartily at the memories made by his most recent job. 

“A chick in blue armor named _Pharah_. Oh dude, _you should have seen it!_ She flew around takin' putos out left and right! No mercy, no love man, she was a lean mean killing machine.” Ramirez made wild gestures with his hands, trying to enforce his point. Pérdido chuckled before remembering something Angela had told him.

“Hey, you still have that deep range transmitter?” Ramirez was brought out of his daydream at the sound of his voice. “Huh? Oh yeah! I do actually, follow me amigo.” The pair walked to the back of the barn where an old, armored, but heavily rusted mustang sat, his usual parking spot when he visited. 

He opened the drivers side and sat in the seat, reaching behind him and pulling a cylinder out of an Australian army issue rucksack. He threw the rucksack in the back seat and got out, closing the door behind him. 

Ramirez handed him the device. “Its been acting funny lately, cutting out, and with that impending rad storm coming up, and transmissions from here is gonna be spotty at best.” He grabbed the device from Ramirez and examined it. 

“But will it be enough to transmit to Spain?” Ramirez looked confused. “Who the fuck do you know in Spain? Hell you barely keep up with me, and I’m your best friend.” He said exasperated. 

Pérdido slugged his arm making him hiss in pain. “Aye! Watch it _puto_ , that hurt!” Ramirez hissed. “It’s for Angela, she wants to contact the others.” He spoke not looking up from the device. 

His faced showed realization, before confusion once again laced his features. “I thought the PETRAS act had their asses on lockdown.?” Pérdido shrugged. 

“I asked her about it and she told me that they were choosing to ignore the PETRAS Act, they want help the world when it needs it most. I support them, I’ve heard the radio broadcasts, the world isn't exactly how it used to be, at least according to everyone else I’ve ever met.” 

Ramirez nodded as well, “Hell, they always been the good guys, I was mad as hell they got shut down to begin with.”

Pérdido dropped his cigar and began walking, device in hand back around to the entrance. Ramirez mirrored his actions and took step next to him. He gestured towards the church, “Where the hell did you even find her?” He asked. 

Pérdido smirked. “Overwatch tried looting one of their old bases, some fighters hit it with a missile while the hatch was opened. She fell, I caught, and she’s been here ever since. She was quite literally a fallen Angel at the time.”

Ramirez raised a brow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, fallen angel? And how long is ‘ever since’ exactly?” Pérdido chuckled and replied; 

“Four days now, I took her to the markets, The Dunes of the South, and today, we were going to go to her old base and try to find whatever we can, hopefully avoiding the terrorist cell hunting them.” He said as he pushed open the doors, and there in the middle of the church, stood not Angela, but Mercy, the battle ready-combat medic. 

Her wings, attached to a neural implant, stretched open, letting them see her in all her glory, light shined on her from above, coming from various cracks and holes in the ceiling.

“I know what you mean by angel now, holy shit.” An ear splitting grin plastered on his face. They closed the door and Ramirez walked to a pile of clothes, what Angela assumed was his. She hadn’t noticed Pérdido’s place almost right next to her. Her peripheral caught sight of him, and she snapped her attention towards him, a light blush graced her features when she realized she was eye level with the middle of his chest. 

She looked up at him and quietly asked. “ _Did you sleep well last night, libeling?”_ He smiled at her, one of genuine thanks. “ _Better than I have in years, you kept your word Angela, you’re making the nightmares slow, each day less and less. All thanks to you…”_ His words touched her, glad she was helping him, despite her unusual methods of keeping her patient company while he slept. 

“Oh would you two just please get a fuckin’ room?” Ramirez yelled as he struggled with putting his pants on. Both of them watched his struggle and giggled together at his struggle. 

“Oh yeah, ignore me, then laugh at me. Add salt to that wound again, why don’t ya?” He grumbled as he forced his jeans on. He buttoned up his shirt, slipping on a worn leather jacket on top. “So amigos! Pérdido told me we are gonna check out your old base, think they have any booze in there?” He asked with a grin, hoping this mission would follow with lots of spoils. 

Angela, thought for a moment before answering. “Actually, if the recreation room hasn’t been cleared, you might find alcohol in their. But I recommend you leave it alone, alcohol only makes you stupid, and kills your liver.” She said with motherly tone, trying to dissuade him from drinking. This only perked him up more. 

“Fireball! Pérdido! We have to play fireball, please, _please,please,please,please!!!!”_ He fell on his knees, and clasped his hands together in a dramatic plea of desperation. Pérdido chuckled heartily, turning to finish getting ready. “Only if Angela plays.” She raised a brow at him. “What on earth are you talking about, what kind of game is named fireball?” 

Ramirez leaped up when she asked, clearing his throat. “Only one of the best games in existence. You have a group of people who have to take a shot of Fireball whiskey every time a song, coincidently enough called Fireball, says the word; Fireball! Its my poison of choice any day of the week, or should I say ours?” Pointing at Pérdido with a skeptic look on his face, he dramatically cheered, throwing a fist into the air when Pérdido nodded, not even looking at him.

“So its a drinking game? If I just tried to dissuade you from drinking why would I want to drink?” Angela deadpanned. Pérdido turned around, only to say; “What about that Overwatch Christmas party you told me about?” She stamped her foot and huffed with frustration. “I told you not to bring that up!” He laughed as he clasped his armor. “Don’t bother trying to convince her, if the story she told me is anything to go on, she can’t handle Fireball, much less the actual game.” 

Angela wasn't usually the one to fall for reverse psychology, but she was also stubborn, and did not back down from a challenge. “Well why don’t you put your money where your mouth is libeling? I’ll play your little game, if I win, you have to clean all of our clothes for the next week, if not, I will.” He pondered the bet for a moment and stuck his hand out to her, as he finished slipping on his duster and mask. “Deal.” They shook on it, a smug smirk on her face.

“You two are just fucking perfect, you know that?” They looked at Ramirez who stood with his arms crossed, grinning at them. They raised a brow at him, he just smiled and walked to the table and pulling out a small laptop from his suitcase. “Your amor here told me that you are trying to call home? Let me see your communication devices. I’ll link it up with my deep range transmitter. That way, we should at least let your amigos know you’re alive.” 

She approached with a cracked and dented earpiece, he just stared at the device before looking past her at Pérdido. “It seems like you forgot to mention a pretty important fact amigo, this shit’s broke.” She rolled her eyes and set it on the table where Ramirez grabbed it and began to examine it. 

Pérdido pulled a stool up and sat to the left of Ramirez, Mercy doing the same on his right. “Is it a least salvageable? Can we get a message out?” Mercy asked. “Eh, the ports on this thing is clogged with dirt, it will take me a bit to clean it. Pérdido, do a weapons check, make sure we’re oiled and hot. Mercy, I want you to use my laptop’s tech board to show me as much as you can about the base. I’ll fix what I can of this thing and hook it up to the transmitter.” Ramirez spoke, his tasks distributed.

They each went to work, Pérdido did weapon checks for the three of them, stripping weapons of their parts, cleaning, oiling and fixing them to their prime. Mercy typed furiously, trying to input the info in a 3D reconstruction hologram. Ramirez was using a soldering gun, trying to fix the damaged wiring. After nearly twenty minutes of work, they all pooled back around the transmitter, the ear piece in Ramirez’s hand. 

“It sure as shit isn’t the best there is, but it’ll do. But there is one tiny, problem amigo. This thing won’t transmit shit until we shut down the local interference. Want to give a guess where the source is?” Pérdido sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “Let me guess, Junker Radio?” Ramirez pointed at him, “Bingo amigo, we need to knock out three of the tower that cover this area, but we need to be discreet, and I have just the thing.

—Outside—

“That is not fucking discreet, Ramirez.” The man in question was standing in front Mercy and Pérdido, holding what’s known as an ATG, or Anti-Tank-Gun, a rapid fire grenade machine gun. “But amigo, you and I both are sick of that queen bitch anyways, nothing’s wrong with a bit of friendly property damage. She’s had it coming forever.” 

Pérdido pinched the bridge of his nose, “Yeah, I know, but _this_ is not being discreet, we only need them shut down long enough to clear the interference, not _piss them the fuck off._ Last thing we need is the queen to roll up on my door step with her fucking army.” Ramirez waved it off. “Man, you live way too far away for her to come out this way.” Pérdido took a step forward. “If Overwatch can’t come to pick her up, you do realize our only bet would by going to Sydney, and getting her on a civilian flight, right? Which means we would have to literally cut through the heart of Junker territory, which you and I both know would be a fucking suicide mission!” 

Ramirez let the gun drop to the sand and grunted in annoyance; “Ugh I hate it when your right.” Pérdido smirked, happy Ramirez had tried to fight his point. “Who is this queen I keep hearing about? Does she have significant control in the Outback?” Ramirez and Pérdido looked at each other and burst into laughter, Ramirez falling to the dirt wheezing, and Pérdido using the hood of Ramirez’s mustang for support. Mercy looked flustered that the two were laughing at her ignorance. 

Pérdido was the first to recover. “Heh..heheh..I-It’s fine Angela, let me explain. There are three major factions here in the wastes. Junkers, Raiders, and the Marauders. Junkers are thieves, but usually stick to the roads, they like to rob caravans and take control of small towns and villages. Raiders have the numbers, and do whatever their basest instincts tell them, rape, pillage, murder. Marauders are a mercenary group that are well armed and trained, but kinda lack in numbers, they usually stay to themselves, don’t really go out of their way to do anything, just whatever jobs are assigned to them.” He looked at Ramirez who was recovering himself, standing up.

“Mi Padre was a raider, an older generation one too, one that took the whole tribal thing too far. Hell, his whole stupid trials bullshit was the reason I busted his ass out of that place.” Ramirez said with a tone of distaste. Mercy looked at him questioningly. “Trials?” Ramirez froze, he shut both eyes tightly, cracking one open to see a still confused Mercy, and Pérdido drawing a finger across his throat, giving him a deadpanned stare.

“Heheheheh, you know, ancient history, stupid stuff, I’ll go get the scrambler ready, VAMANOS!” He ran around the corner at blinding speeds, trying to escape the conversation. Mercy turned to Pérdido, her brow still raised. “Is he usually like that?” Pérdido only grunted, and tried to walk away. Angela grasped his wrist, preventing him from leaving.

“Pérdido, one thing I’ve always valued about you is you honesty and forwardness. I need you to be honest with me now. What’s wrong? These trials, Ramirez has mentioned it twice now. It was the reason you are a free man, isn’t it?” He said nothing, eyes trained on the ground. She could see him tensing, his breath becoming more ragged by the second. She moved her hand from his wrist to hold his hand, stepping forward once. She whispered to him softly, trying to quell his anxiety. “ _Shhhh libeling, you do not need to talk about it if you don’t want to. Shhhh.”_ She cooed to him, soothing the man. 

When he opened his eyes, their faces were mere inches apart, their noses almost touching. Their eyes locked, an intense stare passing between them. At the same time, they began to lean in, eyes slowly drifting closed. “Amigos? You still out here? We need to get rolling, get inside and grab your shit!” Ramirez yelled from the side of the church. They jumped at the sound of his voice, both blushing and shuffling awkwardly before heading to the sound of his voice.

—20 minuets later—

Pérdido’s motorcycle roared down the road, a trail of dust following him as he tore through the desert dirt, Ramirez and Mercy, tailing in the Mustang. They had followed ’13 mile’ to an intersection that lost all pavement, having dirt roads that continued straight, left, and right. Pérdido held up his right arm, signaling to turn right at the intersection. They followed drifting in the dirt, eliciting a yelp from Mercy as she tried desperately to hold on.

Ramirez laughed before taunting her. “Hahahaha! Does the city girl miss her hover cars?” She scowled at him. “Yes I do actually, they are far safer and don't nearly crash at every TURN!” She screamed as they came to a part where there was a steep hill and ramp. “Don’t worry! We do this all the time!” Ramirez said calmly as she continued to scream. She watched as Pérdido hit the ramp flying over a small canyon gap and slamming down on the other side. The sudden weightlessness made her queasy, but soon she jolted forward as the car returned to the earth. 

Ramirez was laughing hysterically in his seat, Mercy had her head hanging out the window, trying to not throw up. A blur caught her attention, she lifted her head and looked back, seeing other vehicles crossing the gap, mostly motorcycles, six in total, two of them had side carts with people in them, armed with mounted machine-guns. 

“JUNKERS! PÉRDIDO, YOU’RE ON THIS ONE!” Ramirez yelled. She got back fully into the car staring at him incredulously. “You’re going to send him to fight them all by his self?! What if he get’s shot? Is there nothing we can do to help him?” She was angry to say the least, and Ramirez had picked up on it rather quickly. 

“Look amiga, I would never send him to do something that I wouldn’t be willing to do myself. It’s just…this is kinda his thing, his personal vendetta, he _lives_ for this shit sometimes. I know for the most part he doesn’t like killing and fighting, but you throw any one of those three factions he told you about and him in a circle. He’s the one walking away, I guarantee it. He’ll never openly say it, but he’s a better shot than I would ever hope to be. He’s a killin' machine when he wants to be.” Ramirez said with respect.

She said nothing, only looked out the back windshield to watch him fight. He had already gunned down two bikers. One with a cart, one without, lay in burning piles further back. Pérdido kept his balance, expertly standing up and keeping balance as his bike got up to speed with the others. 

He pulled out his dual Schofield revolvers, holding his arms out to his sides, each gun trained on the head of a rider. * **POW, POW*** Red mist sprayed from the holes in their temples, the bikes crashed quickly without their pilot. He sat back down and drove up to last motorcycle with a turreted cart. The gunner swiveled to face him, but the barrel of the MG was pushed away by the Pérdido’s boot as he accelerated. He aimed his revolver, * **POW*** the gunner slumped in his spot, landing on the firing lever. The large MG belched smoke and fire, rounds ripping from the barrel, currently aimed ahead towards the Mustang.

“Ey, EY, EY! FUCKER! THAT BITCH BISCUT IS SHOOTING MY BABY! HURRY UP AND KILL HIS ASS PÉRDIDO!” Ramirez roared from his car, voice mostly muffled from the wind. Pérdido sped up, repeating the trick from earlier, the gun hit its apex and recoiled back, sending rounds ripping the other biker to shreds, sending blood, guts, and sparks flying.

* **POW*** The last cart riders head exploded, falling off the speeding bike, tumbling to the dirt. He sped back up, trying to catch up with Ramirez. As he pulled up, Ramirez held his fist out the window, he fist bumped his friend as he rode ahead trying to scout out the roads leading to the first tower. 

It didn't take long for her to catch sight of it. It was the most significant structure for miles. The towering structure was accompanied by a small terminal building, and some transformers that ran to the long line of telephone poles that marked the roads. They approached the radio tower, albeit slowly to scan for enemies. When they were sure there was no enemy in sight, they pulled up to the terminal building and departing from their respected vehicles and approached the trunk of the Mustang. Ramirez opened it and handed Pérdido an 1887 Lever action shotgun, an M4A1. Then for himself, he removed two scorpion submachine guns, and a russian SVD. 

Mercy watched the men arm themselves, like well oiled machines, pulling the actions of their weapons and chambering rounds. When they were completely armed. Pérdido took point, his rifle aim with his shotgun on his back. Mercy fell in-between the two men, keeping close to Pédido as he moved forward. Ramirez tailed, his scorpions aimed towards the building they approached. 

“Oi, new order’s from the queen, she’s sent us a recording of a bounty, we need to air it ASAP!” A junker yelled to his comrade operating the broadcast signal for that area. He grabbed the tape and brought it to the main terminal, ready to place the disk inside. The door burst open at that moment, two bright flashes illuminated the room. * **POW POW*** Two corpses hit the ground. Pérdido followed closely by Ramirez, they swept the room with military precision.

“Hey amigo! Lookie here, she’s got a bounty out on me, and she even made a poster! What do you think, roguishly handsome, or handsomely roguish?” He held one of the rolled up posters next to his face and pulled it open, revealing a rather detailed sketch of him. Pérdido smiled at his friend, happy that he was practically always in a good mood, and found humor in everything. Pérdido stepped forward checking the main terminal, swiftly going through the diagnostics and shutting the tower down. 

“There, one down, two to go. It will take them some time to notice this tower is not broadcasting, and even longer to come here and start it back up. Let’s pack up and head to the next one. 

The trio took to the wastes, hunting down their objectives, and ceasing the signals, managing to reach the final tower by mid evening. “There, thats the last of them, we probably have about twenty four hours or less until they send crews here to repair, we need to get home as soon as possible, let’s gear up and roll out.” 

Pérdido said commandingly. The trio made their way outside, gray skies of pregnant clouds meeting them, ready to rain water from the heavens. The distant cracks and booms of thunder and lightning could be heard in the distance. The three went to Ramirez’s trunk to unload when a distant noise caused the two wastelanders to freeze, while Angela only grew curious. 

“What is that noise? Is…is that an engine?” Angela asked with drawing fear. “Junkers.” Pérdido and Ramirez spoke together. 

Pérdido started grabbing as many guns as he could carry, strapping them to his body as he started to speak. “I’ll keep them distracted, draw them away from here. You two head to the house, set up the transmitter, and record your message. This is gonna be a helluva fight. Ramirez, for every gun I lose or break, I’ll get you a new one with a bottle of Fireball thrown in for good measure.” 

Ramirez was wide-eyed by his sudden proclamation, but nodded quickly, a grin coming on his face.”You better keep to your word, _hermano._ I’m still waiting to play Fireball with you.” He said with a shaky chuckle.

Angela was appalled, not wanting to even chance the idea. “Pérdido, that could be suicide, you have no idea what you are going up again-“ He held out his hand, interrupting her. “Actually Angela, I know exactly what I’m going up against. I can hear the engine, its a big rig for sure, which means one of two things, troops, or supplies, and I’m thinking its the former. Your window of escape is closing, get in the car and get the hell out of here!” He yelled the last part. She flinched sharply, he could see tears brimming in here eyes.

She turned and stomped to the car door, yanking it open and slamming it shut. He could hear Ramirez hiss and whispering; ‘ _easy on the door..’._ “Amigo, what the hell was that for, why did you yell at her man?” Ramirez looked pissed, but Pérdido already had a plan in mind, and the last thing his plan needed was resistance. 

“Look Ramirez, she’s compassionate about helping people, its one of the things about her I **_adore_** _,_ but she would have put up a fight, tried to stay, I can’t have that. She needs to be out of the crossfire, just…please. _Take care of her, hermano._ I’m trusting you until I meet back up with you two. Oh and..go ahead an tell her my real name, I wish she could have heard it from me, but unfortantly, time and nature seems against us. Shall we overcome?” Ramirez smiled disheartened before speaking. “We shall.” They gave each other a quick hug, Pérdido then removed a gun and ammo filled ruck sack, hoisting it over his shoulder. 

Ramirez got into his car and closed the door, taking a quick glance at Angela. She looked like she was about to have a break down. He patted her shoulder, she didn't have the energy to react, she was just angry and upset, but exhausted all the same. 

It had been a long day for all of them. As the car drove down the road away from the final tower against the canyon’s edge, both of the car’s occupants choose to look at their respective rearview mirrors. Watching the retreating form of Pérdido walking around the terminal building, trying to set up a sudo-defense.

After nearly an hour of driving; “Hey..Angela?” She looked up at him, having nodded off for a moment. “Did Pérdido ever tell you his real name?” She perked up at this. “I thought Pérdido _was_ his real name.” She stated, sad that he hadn’t told her upon discovering this new information. “Well, he gave me permission to tell you his real name.” She met his side glance, surprised by this. “Well? What is it?” She asked quietly.

“His real name…is _Marco_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today’s Special: MAD MAX styled fight that starts at the tower, and ends down the road, literally or figuratively is what you need to decide. Enjoy:

—Junker Radio Tower; 5 minuets to midnight—

Pérdido chambered a round into his rifle, glancing at his surrounding. A big rig had shown up like predicted, the rain was currently pelting it as it fell from the sky. Washing dirt and rust from its once white frame. The muddy ground was littered with bodies, blood and mud mixing together in nasty pools of sludge. He stepped over his spent shells and the corpses of his enemies, his boots splashing in the puddles. He kicked a corpse aside to reveal a blood and mud covered communicator. He picked it up and placed the device his free ear, the other still occupied by the communicator given to him by Ramirez. 

“Oi! What’s wrong with you fucks? *static* Why haven’t any of you answered? *static* Hey, is someone on the line? Who is this?” He heard static cutting out the junker’s voice, slightly muffled by the rain. He grunted before speaking. 

“Tell your queen I have a message for her…for every man she sends, she sends him to his death. I will not be stopped, I will not slow down, I am on a mission, and anyone and everyone in my way dies. Is that crystal fucking clear to you?” Pérdido spoke with malice, his voice deep and distorted from his rebreather. He heard a gulp on the other side before a female’s voice replied to him. “Is that so? Hmmm, you must think you are some special snowflake. Do you know how many people have threatened me? My kingdom, my people, my life? You are but a bug in my colony, what makes you think that you could even come close?”

“I don’t want to kill you ma’am, I want to complete my mission. Your men stand in my way, I remove them. It makes sense to you, does it not? If there is a problem, eliminate it. As soon as I finish, which won’t be long now. I’ll be out of your hair.” He said, trying to keep the peace between himself and the Junkers. Although a laugh made his heart drop. “You don’t seem to understand. You’ve killed my men and have shut down three of my towers. Tell me why I shouldn't have you hunted down like the vermin you are?”

“Because if I go down, you all are coming with me.” It was silent for a moment. Before a chuckle could be heard. “Spoken like a true warrior, I like you stranger. You are certainly interesting. I’ll be sending a new wave to your position, be ready for them.” Her sultry voiced finished, he scowled at nothing. “They will fall.” He spoke darkly. “We shall see, won’t we?” The communicator shut off and he grunted, angered that he would have to fight yet another wave.

A distant roar could be heard, the roar of a- no, two big rigs. Fuck… He ran to the entrance of the terminal building and sat behind his M60, pulling the charging handle, racking a round from the belted ammo box. He laid down, aiming the weapon down the road, his entire body inside the building, only the tip of the barrel aiming out. He waited, and waited, and waited, the roars of the engines clear as day in the distance, but never seeming to get and closer. He peaked out the doorway, down the other side of the road. Two rigs sat in the distance, both revving their engines, trying to maintain the illusion of distance. He watched as two dozen Junkers, many armed with haphazardly created assault rifles and pistols, clambered out of the trailers of the big rigs. 

They gathered in groups of six men, four groups in total, and dispersed, trying to look for the suspected intruder(s). Pérdido had just the weapon for groups, a friendly little thing called the M79 Thumper. He grabbed a small box of 40mm shells from Ramirez’s ruck sack, running through the building to the roof. He came to the concrete barrier acting as a railing, thankful for the dense protective material. He propped his rifle up and quickly taking aim at the group closest to the building and cover. 

*THUMP*

An explosion struck, sending the six men flying in all directions, shredded limbs followed by corpses hit the ground. The three other groups stared at their fallen comrades before flying to cover.

*THUMP*

Another explosion sent four men from one of the groups to the ground. Mud, water, and blood present in each splash created by the grenades.

*THUMP*

Another explosion killed an entire group of poorly covered junkers.

*THUMP*  
*BOOM*  
*THUMP*  
*BOOM*  
*THUMP*  
*BOOM*

He watched as the smoke finally began clearing, that there were only about eight left. He stood up and placed the M79 on the barrier, not fearing a retaliation. He was gonna wipe them out, just like he said. He dove off the building tucking and rolling. On the upward roll, unholstering his dual 1911’s, he fired two shots, ending the lives of the Junker’s that dared to peak out of their cover. The remaining six had spotted him and began firing at him. He charged forward using the beams of the tower as cover, diving from one set to another. Their bullets ‘pinged’ and ‘dinged’ all around him, finding their place in a metal strut or beam. 

He found cover behind a transformer, hearing the rounds hit the other side in attempt to keep him suppressed. He soon realized that they were most likely to send some one to flank him. He kept his gaze to the right of the transformer where the aisles of transformers started. Soon enough, a head popped out, rifle aimed, he charged forward, pushing the junker against the transformer knocking his rifle to the ground and wrapping his hands around his throat. The dazed junker threw a poorly coordinated punch, connecting with Pérdido’s metal rebreather. It shifted to the side, revealing his menacing snarl, illuminated by a flash of lightning, followed by a thunderous boom. 

‘Your training will only take you so far, a true survivalist relies on his instinct.’

The junker looked terrified, fear gripping him deeply. He squeezed his throat and shift his hands sharply to the right, effectively snapping his neck, killing the man. The dead junker slumped against the transformer, rain dripping off of his corpse. Pérdido quickly fixed his mask, turned and ran back the way he came, hoping that the junkers would look for the flanker. He ducked behind a beam when he spotted the remaining five making their way to the friend. He took this moment to sprint for the terminal building, barely making it to the entrance before a sorrowful yell reached his ears. 

“OI, THIS FUCKER KILLED FRANKIE, HE GOT FRANKIE! HE- HE WAS JUST A KID!AUGHHHHHH!” 

He watched a furious group of junkers run out of the transformers aisle, frantically looking for the murderer of their fellow junker. He had reached the door and yanked it open, quickly kneeling and grabbing the rucksack, and shouldering his M60. He continued through the building and quickly climbed to roof, running to the M79. He tucked weapon into the ruck sack, and quickly took aim with his M60, thankful the rain gave him a proper cover along with the pitch black sky.

He wasted no time in firing short, but well aimed bursts at the remaining junkers, the large 7.62x51mm rounds shredding the men in seconds. Only a single junker made it to cover alive, but a bullet had passed through his leg, so his wouldn't last long. Pérdido calmly made his way back down, and out of the building, approaching the wooden crate the man had as cover. He shivered, either from blood loss, or lying on the wet mud, Pérdido couldn't be sure. The man looked up at him, a distant flash of lightning once again illuminating his frame to the junker. 

“J-just do it..M-make it quick…” The junker said, laying out flat, awaiting the end of his life.

‘I know its what your used to, dealing with problems like that, but, at least for me, can you try not to be as…ruthless?’

He closed his eyes and debated internally, before opening them and kneeling, opening the ruck sack. He removed a med kit and looked up at the man. “I’m going to fix you to the point where you won’t die, its your job to go get treatment, tell your people to leave me the fuck alone.” His voice came out deep and menacing. The junker’s eyes were wide, but he said nothing, letting his savior get to work. 

—2hrs later— 

Pérdido pulled his motorcycle up to his home, choosing to pull around back to see if Ramirez and Angela had made it here safe. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw Ramirez’s Mustang. He pulled up along side it and kicked the stand. The communicator that he had picked up from the dead junker buzzed to life. 

“Well sir, I have to say, I am more than impressed, I’m intimidated. Not something that I easily admit. I feel you would be more valuable as an ally, or at least neutral rather than wiping out my patrols. So I’ve ordered my men not to fire on you, or those companions of yours. Consider it a gesture of good will, for not sending my army to wipe you out. But if I need your help, I’ll be in touch. Toodles~.” 

The queen spoke quickly and decisively, having thought of this deeply upon the return of only one of her thirty-six fighters. He turned off the communicator and pocketed it. Pérdido grabbed the ruck sack, haphazardly packed with a mix of Pérdido and Ramirez’s guns, slinging it over his shoulder and making his way around the church. He reached the large oak doors and pushed them open, their creak echoing around the house. Two sets of eyes landed on him, each seated on a stool at the large center table, one gasped, and the other’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit amigo, did you get in a fight with a sentry turret or something?” Ramirez stood up quickly, his voice light and humor filled, while concern shown clear in his eyes. Angela stood up the same time as Ramirez, rushing to his side, Caduceus staff in hand. She immediately scanned him and found that several bullets were still inside him, and would need to be removed before her staff could properly heal him. 

“Ramirez clear the workshop table, and grab any and all medical supplies you can find.” Ramirez went straight to work, and grabbed handfuls of schematics and placed them on top of a near by filing cabinet. She grabbed the ruck sack from his armored shoulders and guided it to the floor. She led him to where the couch was and grabbed his duster, and began peeling the bloody, torn leather from his ragged form. 

“I’m sorry.” He said it so softly, she almost did hear him. “Why are you sorry, libeling? Now granted I’m mad that you chose to stay behind and fight them all of those junkers yourself, but other than that you have no reason to be sorry.” He grunted in pain as she unclasped his kevlar vest and removed it from his body. “I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.” I was out of line, I-“ She held a hand up cutting him off. “Ramirez told me why you did what you did, and while i’m not entirely happy about it…” She looked him dead in the eye, offering a beautiful, sincere smile. “I understand.” He would look back on this moment like many others and ask himself if this was the moment, he would later decide it was not, but it was close.

“Come now, libeling, we must get those bullets out of you, come with me.” Angela took his hand softly grasping it and led him to the workshop table, gesturing him to lie down. He did as ordered, unquestioningly. Angela looked over the tools at her disposal, before grabbing a pair of pliers, and looking at Pérdido apologetically, this was going to hurt.

—1 hour later—

“AUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH!!” Pérdido roared as the pliers dug deep into his torso, grasping for metal shrapnel as well as the bullet. Angela felt resistance and grasped it tightly with the pliers, pulling slowly, trying to be careful, but ultimately causing his pain to be prolonged. Finally he couldn’t take it any more, grabbing the pliers her hands were wrapped around, guiding it out of him quickly, he roared again in agony. 

*Tak*

The sound of the last bullet being put in a bloody aluminum tray. The last of seven that had managed to to hit him during his fight with the junkers, wounds he had no idea about. The adrenaline kicked in and Marco was buried deep as Pérdido swept threw like a human hurricane, killing all in his path. She grabbed a full bottle of vodka given to her by Ramirez, and poured it onto the wound. He hissed in pain, flinching as the burning sensation traveled deep.

She quickly grabbed her staff and aimed it at him, firing the golden beam at him, enveloping his form. Pérdido sat up and checked his chest, pleased to find it completely fixed from his recent engagements. He said nothing as he hopped off the table and tried to stand on his feet, only to wobble and start to topple over. Ramirez shot forward and threw Pérdido’s arm around his neck, holding his brother in arms up, like the many times he had done in the past. 

“Homie, what the fuck were you thinking fighting all those pendejos by yourself? Did you have a fucking death wish dude?” Ramirez chastised him as if he were a younger brother, doing something he thought was right. “I had the situation under control, she only sent thirty six men, it wasn't like an army. Not to mention my message to the queen junker seemed to finally click. I found a junker’s communicator and talked to her. She was impressed by my elimination of her men, and have decided that I would be more useful as an ally. She expects my help at some point, when I don’t know. But I will likely avoid her calls. I never agreed to her terms. But no we safe passage to Sydney confirmed. Were you able to get the message out?” Pérdido inquired. 

Angela nodded, “In fact, not only did we manage to get a message out, we got a reply almost instantly before the towers started coming back online. They said that our only drop ship has been too heavily damaged for retrieval, but when it is repaired, they would meet us at the old Overwatch base for pick up. They assume with its repair as their main priority, they expect to have it repaired within the next two weeks. They even said they would bring as much as your stuff as they can fit in the drop ship, as well as your bike and Ramirez’s car!” She spoke with glee. Her cheeriness was contagious, forcing Pérdido to smile slightly.

Ramirez set him down on the couch, having him lie down, head resting on a pillow. “Amigo, you need your rest, its probably best you hit the sack.” Ramirez said softly. “But i’m not tired.” He retorted softly, exhaustion clear in eyes. Ramirez chuckled and messed with Pérdido’s hair, smiling at him softly. “Sure you are, hermano, sure you are. Angela, keep him some company. I’ll put on some tea. Is it still in the same place?” Pérdido nodded softly, eyes unfocused and worn.

Ramirez stood up and walked away, Angela took to his side, already clad in Pérdido’s oversized flannel and sweatpants, her high, bound pony tail waving as she looked over his form, staring at the many scars on his chest. “Marco..” She cooed softly. Her voice, his name, the shivers were toe curling. “Y-Yes, Angela?” He stuttered timidly, unused to having someone say his name, and the way she said it. Holy shit, he was lightheaded for a moment. She looked over him, eyes locking with his. “Its a great name, libeling..I can’t wait to start using it more. Marco…it fits you.” He smiled at her before rebutting. “Just like how Angel fits you so well…” She giggled softly, waving off what she assumed was his nickname for her, what she didn’t know was the significance of Angels to the man. 

“You know, my mom had a saying. She used to always say, ‘An angel belongs in the sky, no matter how hard or far they fall.’ And for the longest time I never knew what she was speaking about. It wasn't until after she passed I realized she was talking about me, my youth, what had been done to me. I still didn't see it, didn't believe in it. Until I met you…” He trailed off slowly. She was watching him intensely. He raised a brow at her in questioning. She seemed to snap back to reality. She smiled softly, leaning forward, placing a soft, but full kiss on his cheek. She pushed her body onto the couch, letting Marco’s body envelop her’s, a sigh of satisfaction escaping her lips. 

He grinned contently, throwing an arm over her waist and pulling her closer. She gasped silently at his quick action, making her smile widen. She closed her eyes, enjoying his presence, his soft breaths constantly present on the back of her neck. Angela’s eyes shot open at a sudden occurrence. ‘Oh mien Gott, I think I love him…’ She said nothing, choosing to close her eyes, hoping, praying to whatever deity exists that a relationship will bloom between them…

—End of Day 4—


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is gonna be some backstory and slice of life before the next conflict. Give these poor children a break! Today’s Special: Character and Relationship Growth, with a side of Backstory. Today’s song: Tom Petty: Mary Jane’s Last Dance

—In The Heart Of The Australian Outback Wasteland—

Marco sat on a crate in the corner of his workshop, strumming, his guitar, smiling softly at nothing in particular, but still rather focused in Angela’s direction.The sun shined through the window, aimed at Ramirez, who sat on top of his ammo bench, twirling a harmonica in his hands. Marco’s strumming picked up as he begun to sing.

“She grew up in an Indiana town  
Had a good lookin' momma who never was around  
But she grew up tall and she grew up right  
With them Indiana boys on an Indiana night”

Ramirez began playing a matching, but smooth tune on his harmonica.

“Well she moved down here at the age of eighteen  
She blew the boys away, it was more than they'd seen  
I was introduced and we both started groovin'  
She said, "I dig you baby but I got to keep movin'...on, keep movin' on”

He soloed for a moment, hopping of the crate. He sung this part with Ramirez.

“Last dance with Mary Jane  
One more time to kill the pain  
I feel summer creepin' in and I'm  
Tired of this town again”

Ramirez rocked the Hermonica adopting the tune from earlier.

“Well I don't know what I've been told  
You never slow down, you never grow old  
I'm tired of screwing up, I'm tired of goin' down  
I'm tired of myself, I'm tired of this town  
Oh my my, oh hell yes  
Honey put on that party dress  
Buy me a drink, sing me a song,  
Take me as I come 'cause I can't stay long”

Marco swayed his hips as he sung, smiling at Angela’s toothy grin. Ramirez started singing with again.

“Last dance with Mary Jane  
One more time to kill the pain  
I feel summer creepin' in and I'm  
Tired of this town again”

He trailed off into a intense solo, rearing back with the guitar. Ramirez hopped off the crate and began dancing to the music, as did Angela.

“There's pigeons down in Market Square  
She's standin' in her underwear  
Lookin' down from a hotel room  
Nightfall will be comin' soon  
Oh my my, oh hell yes  
You've got to put on that party dress  
It was too cold to cry when I woke up alone  
I hit the last number, I walked to the road”

Ramirez and Marco were back to back as they sung the last part.

“Last dance with Mary Jane  
One more time to kill the pain  
I feel summer creepin' in and I'm  
Tired of this town again”

Ramirez picked up his tune, carrying it to the end, as Marco went off on a long solo, trailing off after a moment. The two men looked at Angela as her quick clapping caught their attention, their gaze returned to each other, giving each other a flashy grin. Angela’s clapping ceased and she stepped forward. “How many songs do you two sing together?”

Ramirez smiled widely, looking up in mock thought. “Hmmm, I dunno, like fifty or sixty.” Her eyes bulged before Marco’s hand connected with the back of Ramirez’s head. “He’s being stupid again, sorry. We only know like, seven or eight songs. Although this guy right here showed me something called free styling that he likes to do. You should show Angela sometime.” 

Ramirez blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hehe, I don’t know..I’m not that good at it. When I left the wasteland for my first mission, I ended getting sent to the states, some city on the west coast called LA, reminded me of Sydney, but dirtier. In fact, I met some of your amigos, Angela. I also met these teenagers rapping on the corner in some kind of rap battle. It was pretty cool, so I checked it out. Apparently they were coming up with all the stuff they were rapping on the spot! So I figured I’d give it a try. I’m not all that good.”

Marco grinned at Ramirez. “I’m sure Pharah would love to see you freestyle.” Ramirez blush deepened and he lunged at Marco, who ducked and ran in circles, trying to avoid his angry friend. “Why you little, puto! Voy a patear el culo, perra culo hijo de puta!” Angela looked bewildered? “How do you know Fareeha?” Ramirez stopped chasing him when his towering frame took shelter behind Angela. She was more curious, even though the comical site before her, of a six foot seven giant running from a five foot eleven man, despite the fact Ramirez was older than Marco by four years. 

He huffed but collected himself. “I met her on my first out of country mission a few weeks ago. There was supposed Los Muertos strongholds in the city. Overwatch hired a few mercs to cover their agents in case shit went sideways. I think they hired me cause I was the cheapest with the most experience.” He pondered for a moment before continuing.  
“Anyways, your own little blue jay and I got caught by one of their Patrols. Had to tail it across half the city on foot. I saved her ass about as many times as she saved mine. She’s one bad puta. And a damn good looker if I may say so myself.” He finished, a distant look companied with a short smile graced his features. He shook his head went to push open the barn doors, letting them swing open. Angela and Marco fell in step with him.

“You know, Ramirez, you could see Fareeha again if Winston agrees to my proposal.” Angela said optimistically. Marco raised a brow, looking at her. “Proposal?” She nodded vigorously. “I asked Winston if you and Ramirez could join us at Overwatch, and to be temporary if you find you do not wish to stay…” She said the first part with much enthusiasm, it all but disappeared when finishing the sentence. He said nothing, his mouth shut firmly, looking at the ground in front of him, in deep thought. She watched him warily, trying to gauge his reaction. He soon looked back up at her, a small smile on his face. “I’d like that.” He said softly.

It took so much not to throw a fist in the air and cheer. Angela instead chose to send him sincere, happy smile. They both looked forward, to see Ramirez peel off and head towards his Mustang. “I’m gonna go to the Market, got a few things I wanna pick up some stuff. You two need anything?” Angela shook her head, but Marco spoke up. “Actually, yeah, if you could pick up another eighth? I’m almost out.” Ramirez chuckled and shook his head, as he shed his leather jacket, revealing a black t-shirt. He threw the jacket into his passenger seat, and rolled down the window. “Only if you smoke me out, amigo. You two, stay safe and wear condoms!”

Before the flustered duo could reply, he rolled up his window and took off, kicking up a large cloud of dust in their direction. Marco and Angela shielded their eyes, trying to hold their breath until he was gone, opening their eyes and watching the last of the dust settle. Angela turned her head to him and looked at him questioningly. “An eighth? Of what?” He returned the questioning look. “Weed? Why?” She stared at him for a moment, just…starring, a blank look on her face. “What? Is that bad?” She watched as his curiosity disappeared and was replaced with a look of a child he thought he was about to be scolded. “Do-Do you not accept that where you are from?”

“Well libeling, its not that its not accepted, its just that fighters are not known for smoking marijuana. Especially not active fighters. Not to mention that smoking of any kind is bad for you. Why do you even do it?” She asked skeptically. He looked afraid to answer, but chose to trust she wouldn’t go off on him. “I usually use it to help me get to sleep, and to sleep without nightmares. Sometimes when my scars ache real bad, I’ll smoke to alleviate the pain. And sometimes I’ll smoke it when I’m really bored and finished all my work early, it gives me inspiration for my music.” He spoke softly and timidly. 

She quickly shook her head softly, not entirely agreeing with it, but she was also aware of its medicinal properties. She was just rather surprised to find it here in the wasteland. “I can’t say I entirely agree with it, but as long as it isn’t all the time. I would prefer if you found another method of its consumption, smoking can lead to cancer.” She spoke in a doctorly tone, trying to inform him of the risks. He seemed a bit scared after acquiring this information. “You can get cancer from smoking too? But…I thought radiation was the only way..” He seemed frightened that something he had been doing so long could be killing him. 

She felt she needed to ease his worries, at least as best as she could. “You know, if you stopped smoking those cigars, you could significantly reduce your chances of contracting it.”

He seemed less tense at the information, and quickly reached into his duster and removed three cigars, dropping them to the ground and stepping on them. She was surprised at his sudden will to quit. “You’ll quit, just like that?” He nodded. “Cigars, hell yeah. They don’t do anything for me except taste. I’ve always prided myself on staying as healthy as possible. So if cigars will kill me, I’ll cut them out. I want the only true unstoppable force being the cause of my death.” He spoke confidently.

“And that is?” She asked curiously. “Time.” He replied. He started making his way back around to the front of the church. He pushed open the large oak doors, them giving the signature creak in response. They stepped inside and Marco stripped off his duster and armor to reveal a tight, white t-shirt, accompanied by his trademark black combat pants and boots. Angela made her way to the couch, resting in her main spot on the far end, closest to where the tub was. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a large jar, with an equally large cork. He walked over to the couch, plopping down next to Angela and pulled a crate around to act as a little table.

She watched him with curious eyes as he pulled out an old hand carved, wooden tobacco pipe. He pulled out a quart sized baggie full of green herb, and pulled out several nugs of the herb and put it inside the pipe. He pulled out a small matchbook and struck a match, lighting its content and puffing on it. She raised her brows in surprise when he broke out into a fit of coughs, filled with chuckles. He laughed for a moment longer, causing a small grin to appear on her face. He was giggling like a kid at nothing in particular. He continued to puff on the pipe, careful to blow the smoke away from Angela, as to not bother her. She watched the whole time with an amused smirk on her face. 

Soon he checked the bowl of the pipe, and and sighed in content as he flipped it upside down and knocked the ash out of it. He slipped everything back into his jar about put it on the floor on the end on the couch, the side closest to the door. He leaned back and looked at her, a toothy grin on his face, his bloodshot eyes easily visible with assistance of the afternoon sun coming in from the windows. She smiled at him and raised a brow? “Feel better?” He nodded softly.

“My scars always hurt, sometimes more, sometimes less. Something about them not healing right. Heard it from a raider doctor shortly after…” He trailed off, not wanting to bring up the ‘Trials’. She leaned forward, already knowing what he was talking about. She grasped his hand and rubbed her thumb over it in a circular motion. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and looked up at her. She could see the shine in his eye, shining back at her with the brilliance of the sun. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, but found no words would come out.

She placed a hand on his cheek, caressing his face. “Marco, I want to know if you would be okay with me asking about the trials? If I know what happened, I can help make the nightmares go away completely. I want to help you, but I can’t if you are not open with me.” She spoke slowly and softly, as to not upset him. He said nothing, gripping her hand tighter.

“It started when I was 15, Ramirez’s father, Pablo Ramirez bought my group, group 17. There were sixteen of us. We all considered each other family, we had all lost someone, and chose to look out for each other. On our fifth day in the camp, we were told we would be fighting in an arena. Many of us were skilled combatants or hunters by the age, myself included.”

He trailed off again in deep thought. She squeezed his hand lightly, and his gaze shifted to her. “S-Sorry..I..” She held a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Take your time.” She said softly, he smiled at her compassion. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “We were told on the first day in the arena that we would be fighting each other. I-I had to fight all of them…and win. Oh god, winning was the worst part. They would just scream and cheer as if I had just saved the world. I became revered, at what level of brutality I could achieve. Tear a man in half, tear his guts out, rip out his spine. It…It was a fucking nightmare. For three years I was there, one after another, I fought slaves from around the world, making many friends, and having to kill them all. Eventually I caught up to the ranks of my group..group 17…” 

His eyes were watering, tears cascading down his cheeks, disappearing into his beard. His voice was still remarkably stable, not braking, but slowing. “I fought what was left of my fellow slaves, all five that remained. I won. Every. Single. Match.” He was breathing incredibly hard now, the hand not holding hers, clenched until his knuckles were white. She rubbed his hand, and cooed to him softly.

“Shhhhh libeling…You did really good today. You don’t have to keep going. Look at me Marco.” Angela cooed to the worn wastelander. He looked up at her, tears brimming in his eyes. He hadn’t ever spoken of the days of the Trials. Those were his darkest days, forced to do the most inhumane things imaginable. The surprise on the guards faces when he turned on them…

He let out a choked sob and curled in towards Angela. She caught him immediately, letting him rest his head on her lap. She whispered to the sobbing man, trying to relax him, running her fingers through his hair. He laid like that for only a few moments, and sat up quickly, trying to compose himself, clearly having disliked his own breakdown. He sniffed and wiped his eyes, taking a shaky, but deep breath. He turned and looked at her, their gazes locking. That fire in his eyes, it was still there, albeit dimmed, burning at less than half of its usual swimming brightness.

Then like a switch had been flipped, the fire came back with a vengeance, as if he had just had an epiphany. He stood up and walked to her spot, towering over her sitting form. He placed his hands on the arm rest and the cushion to her left, and leaned over her. She backed into the cushion, a blush consuming her face. He leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart. He seemed to be studying her, his eyes scanning the features of her face. She was confused at what was going on in that mind of his. For him, he had finally figured out two things, first was that warm feeling in his chest whenever he was around Angela. Also..he decided that this was the moment, the moment he fell in love with her.

Before she could question him, his lips met hers. Her eyes widened, but fluttered shut. The kiss ended as quickly as it started. He leaned back and studied her for a reaction. Her blue eyes opened slowly, staring into his turquoise eyes. She tightly grasped his t-shirt and pulled him in, their lips meeting in a fierce lock. This kiss was filled with more of a rushed passion, Angela pulled his towering frame towards her until she could wrap her arms around neck, pulling him against her. He trailed the kiss down her cheek, trailing its way to her neck. She shivered in delight, eliciting a small yelp from her.

He placed his hands on her waist and her body flush with his. “Marcooo…” She moaned his name as he bit down lightly on her neck. “Hey amigos, I got us- OH HOLY SHIT, HAHAHAHAHAHA!” The voice caused them to whip their heads towards the doors, where Ramirez stood, laughing hysterically with a few bags of groceries. He fell to the floor, wheezing loudly. “HAHAHAHAHA, OH MY GOD, I LEAVE YOU FOR THIRTY MINUETS, AND YOU TWO LOOK LIKE TWO DOGS IN HEAT, ABOUT TO FUCK!” Ramirez rolled over wheezing more. The duo on the couch were rushing to look decent…and not like previously mentioned. 

When they finally looked presentable again, they both glared at Ramirez, who still lie on the floor, seeming to laugh harder every few seconds. They both walked over to where he was laying, and started grabbing the spilled groceries. Angela was blushing deeply, but Marco had a scowl on his face. He turned to face his prone best friend. 

“If you don’t stop laughing, I won’t smoke you out.” Marco said smugly, a grin forming. The laughing stopped abruptly. “Ey! Amigo, would you really be that cruel? I did go and buy it for you after all.” Marco took a step forward. “Using who’s credits?” He rebutted. Ramirez started to stammer. “W-Well, what about that bet I one, huh? The one about the arena fight? Chopper and Torike? Chopper won! You owe me 200 credits!” Ramirez seemed a little nervous. “Actually if I recalled correctly, we had four total bets. And I won three of them. The Capalin fight, the Brock fight, and the Moriarty fight.” Marco stood there, a smug grin plastered. “So that means you owe me a total of 6,400 credits. Subtracting what I owe you, you still owe me 6,200 credits.” He smiled as both Angela and Ramirez stared at him, mouths slightly ajar. 

“F-Fine…” Ramirez grumbled softly to himself. “But I want to smoke now.” He picked a up a baggie from the table and examined it. “Hey Angela?” Ramirez asked casually, she raised a brow. “Yes Ramirez?” She asked quietly, still rather embarrassed from earlier. “You want to smoke some fire?” Ramirez asked. “No! I’ve already said smoking is bad for you.” She said defiantly, although Ramirez wasn't one to back down easily. “But your a doctor, you know marijuana has medical properties. Besides, what if one of us just collapses, you need to know what it feels like to better understand it.” He rebutted.

She crossed her arms glared daggers at him and Ramirez started to get nervous, but wasn't giving up, deciding to try playing a wild card. “What if Marco here showed you how to do it?” She seemed nervous, and all too hesitant. He needed to goad the wild card more, using Marco seemed to work. Until his best friend shot him down. “Dude, if she doesn’t want to do it, she doesn't have to.” He said sternly. She looked at him gratefully, happy he was respecting her decision. Ramirez groaned, upset his plan ultimately failed, but alas, some battles are not worth fighting, and if Marco has already sided with her, its too late.

He said nothing more and turned to fill up his own bowl. Marco turned to Angela and winked at her. “Don’t let him pressure you into shit you don’t want to do. I love him like a brother, but he has a problem with peer pressure.” Marco whispered softly. She smiled at him in reply, thankful for the advice. He walked to a cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out a bag of jerky. 

Coughing caught their attention, turning to see Ramirez coughing like someone with an illness. “So wha-*cough**clears throat* So what are we doing tomorrow?” Ramirez choked out. Marco’s once soft expression became stern once again. His body shifting, standing up straight, Marco was disappearing, Pérdido was coming out to play. 

“We help Angela finish her mission, find and salvage anything we can, and eliminate any hostiles. Should be easy peasy.” Pérdido said confidently. Instantly, a feeling in her chest dropped, one that made the blood in her veins turn to ice. Intense fear is a way to describe it, but wouldn't be fitting enough. ‘Ah, I know, suspenseful dread…’ Angela thought darkly.

—End of Day 5—


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, today is the day that a new conflict is introduced, so hold on to your tissues, cause our boy Marco’s about to do something really stupid for the ones he loves. Warning; edgy content, controversial. No Special today..

—At Watchpoint Outback, Deep in the Heart of the Australian Outback Wasteland—

“PÉRDIDO, COVER YOUR SIX, I’LL TAKE THE FUCKER’S UP FRONT.” Ramirez roared over the gunfire as his car roared further through the base, doing sharp drifts in-between two warehouses, Pérdido following close behind on his motorcycle. Ramirez looked at Angela in the passenger seat, “Eh, amiga, switch with me, you drive.” She looked startled by his request. “B-But I’ve never driven a car with wheels before!” He rolled his eyes. “Its basically the same thing except it can’t go up or down. Try to be careful, yeah?” He started to climb over her as to take her seat, forcing her to swap seats with the man, she quickly assumed control of the vehicle.

They arrived at the base only a few hours ago, not really expecting to see much. At first, they didn’t. They spent nearly three hours checking out the base, pulling anything worth value into holo-disks, or into Ramirez’s trunk. But as soon as they were about to leave, a bunch of men in leather and metal armor, some covered in blood, rode out on scrapped cars and bikes. She assumed that these were the junkers they spoke of so much, that was until Ramirez looked like he had seen a ghost upon sight of them. “RAIDERS!” He had roared with such a ferocity she had never seen in the man before, he always seemed so laid back. 

She jerked the wheel to the right, hearing a string of curses in spanish to her right. She looked at him as he loaded a belt fed machine-gun. He stuck his head out the window and located his brother in arms. “Amigo! RPD, TAKE IT!” He slung the machine-gun in his direction, and he sped up, catching it before it hit the road. With one arm, he raised the machine gun, and unleashed a torrent of 7.62x39mm rounds into three of the approaching bikers, watching as sparks and red mist flew in all directions behind them. Soon the three bikes collapsed, and no more vehicles were behind them. The mustang brake lights illuminated the alleyway between the row of warehouses, as it came to a stop in front of the exit of the warehouses leading to the flight strip. 

Pérdido drove up to the window and knocked on it softly. Angela rolled down the window and smirked up at him. Pérdido smiled behind his mask, “You know how fast you were going little lady?” She chuckled before giving a teasing look. “I don’t know officer, I’m afraid you’ll have to inform me.” The both stopped when the heard Ramirez snort. “Okay you two can foreplay later, we got a problem to focus on.” The duo looked slightly flustered, but remained quiet to let Ramirez speak.

“Okay, why are the raider’s here, they only scavenge in the Dunes of the South, why the fuck are they this far north?!” Ramirez said frustrated. “Well…they could be restarting the slave programs? I mean, we did a lot of damage to them when we left, they might have re-manned and wanted to try it again.” Pérdido offered, though Ramirez shook his head. “No, thats not possible, you were their cash cow, they wouldn’t have tried to restart something without at least a thin glimmer of a head start..oh my god.” Ramirez trailed off, then looked at them. “I think they know its you, Marco! They might be trying to re-capture you, and if they are here for you, it means my dear ol’ padre is close.” Pérdido grunted, gathering the car’s occupants attention. 

“Their attention is behind us, if we ride quickly, we can get back to the church unnoticed.” Ramirez seemed angry at the suggestion, but chose to keep quiet. Angela and Ramirez switched again, Ramirez choosing to keep his scorpion drawn incase. They pulled out of the alley way and started driving down the strip to the main gate of the base, the sand on the strip being kicked up as they drove. Soon, roaring of engines caught their attention, as they turned as saw several dozen motorcycles, and about ten cars quickly catching up. 

They sped up quickly, trying to outrun the contingency force. Soon, they came upon a larger problem. The raiders had set up shop at the entrance, hoping to catch them escape. They pulled the Mustang and motorcycle up, coming to a stop, completely surrounded by the Raiders. Hundreds of guns were aimed at the three as they departed their vehicles, Pérdido giving an evil glare in all directions, clearly spotting familiar faces. Soon a voice could be heard, one with a thick, old spanish accent, followed by a slow, but loud clapping.

“Bien hecho, hijo. Me trajiste el prisionero escapado, como sabía que lo harías!” The voice spoke full of sarcastic pride. The clapping ceased as an old Spaniard, dressed in a nice navy suit, with a white dress shirt and matching navy dress pants, stepped forward, smirking at Ramirez. “Hello Abel, you’ve been quite the naughty boy, killing my men, destroying safe houses, freeing property.” He glared at Pérdido, to which Angela immediately jumped to his defense. “He is not property, he is a human being!” The old man laughed loudly, turning to face her. 

“So the rumor’s are true, Overwatch’s famous Angela Ziegler. You know? I could take you to the border, hand you over to the government, for a hefty reward, in turn handing you over to the UN and one of their many famous prisons on international waters, no rules and all…” He said, a sadistic grin on his face. Pérdido stepped forward, eyes glued on Ramirez’s father, Pablo. “Or we could keep you, brand you, turn you into my men’s sex toy, think you’d like that more?” He said gesturing to the men, giving her disgusting, predatory smirks, many licking theirs lips. 

She backed up, bumping into Pérdido, who looked down into her terrified eyes, seeing how the threats made her terrified of the possibility, he wouldn’t- no, couldn’t let that happen. He always gets what he wants, one way or another, and right now, her’s and Ramirez’s life was all he could think about. He turned to face Pablo and spoke.

“What do you want Pablo?” Pablo sneered at the man, “That’s Master, to you pendejo. Do not think you have a right to speak. We are simply reclaiming what was ours from the start.” Pérdido took a step forward fully in Pablo’s view, standing at full height. Many of the guards knew first hand what the man was capable of and took a step back, guns trained on his head.

He pulled something clasped to his back and held it up, activating whatever it was, releasing a bright neon blue light. Ramirez gasped and looked mortified. “Marco…what the fuck are you doing? MARCO?” Pérdido held the device above his head, thumb held over a blue, glowing button, his other hand by his side, clenched into a tight fist. “If you don’t let them go, we all go. This is a neutron bomb, hand made by your truly. See, here’s how I see this situation. You want me back, you want her turned into either a reward or sex toy, you’ll probably just kill your son. And lets be honest, you’re not afraid to put me down if I get too far out of line. So I could just…end it now. For us, we would get a quick clean painless death, and wouldn't have to suffer the life you would force us to live.”

He started pacing gesturing to all the men, he was trying to scare them all. “You in turn, would come with us, along with all your men, and any possible chance of your men finding a way around ’13 mile’. Cutting your clans off to the Dunes of the South, cutting their supply line. As an old friend once told me, you do not need to cut the head off an empire to end it, just cut it’s throat. And I could do it all, with the press. Of. One. Button. ” Everyone, stared at him, terror etched onto their face. Angela and Ramirez included. Pablo’s eye twitched as he stared at the young man. “Y-You’re insane.” He spoke softly. 

Pérdido quickly rebutted. “Or, you can take what I give you, which is cooperation on my part, if you let them both go, no hunting them, no finding, or i’ll never deactivate the bomb, and i’ll never speak on how to activate it…until I do.” The old man seemed to be losing composure he had in droves before. He watched Pérdido’s thumb move closer to the button.

“FINE! Men, let those two pass.” Pablo yelled. Pérdido turned to them, removing his mask and tossing it to Angela, she caught it and looked up to see him smiling sadly at her. “Keep it safe for me. I’ll see you again soon Angela.” She felt Ramirez wrap his hand around her arms and began pulling her towards his car. She didn't notice the tears drifting down her cheeks as she tried to see him for as long as she could. ‘Say something to him, anything!’ She couldn't find the words as she was shoved into the passenger seat of the Mustang.

She choked out a sob when her door closed, she heard Ramirez open his door and him get in. He looked at her, watching her cry softly to herself. Tears of frustration brimmed at his eyes, he gripped the wheel tightly, and drove off as quickly as possible, tearing up a cloud of dust as he drove off and back to the church. “I will save you hermano, you have my word.” 

Pérdido watched them drive away, speeding off into the distance, smirking to himself. His bluff had worked, they would be safe, thank god. Now to get himself out of this mess. No sooner did he get ready to fight when the stock of a gun, connected to the back of his head, it knocked him to the ground, but still conscious. He tried sitting up only to receive the same as before, knocking him out cold…

—End of Day 7—

Marco could feel his arms and legs tethered to chains. Large metal braces ran around his body, making him completely immobile, even a muzzle of sorts adorned his face, ‘They must fear me…for good reason.’ 

He opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings. It was a ramshackle cell, one he remembered very well, the same one he spent three years in. Right back to square one, oh well. “You’re awake.” The thick spanish accent made his eyes dart to the corner of the room where a person emerged from the shadows, Pablo Ramirez. He growled softly, glaring in his direction. “They were right to put that muzzle on you, growling like an animal, even us Raiders are not so daft as to growl to people. You do what normal people do and insult them, you fucking gringo.” He chuckled to himself, before turning around and pulling out a torture kit and setting up a Bunsen burner, placing a brand atop the flame. He turned back around, waiting for the metal to be red hot. 

“You know, I’d be lying if I said I won’t enjoy this. This is going to hurt you a lot more than it’s going to hurt me.”

—2 Days Following—

He laid against the floor, the chains, making him mostly immobile, unable to escape the torrent of brands, stabs, electrocutions, and whippings he had been receiving. He was panting heavily after receiving unregulated voltages from a car battery to the chains surrounding his body. Soon he heard what sounded like boots clopping down the hall towards their location. They heard a swift knock on the door. Pablo smiled brightly. “Ah, that must be her! Let me get the door.” 

He walked to the metal door, and opened it, letting a tall woman walk in. Her hair was shaved into a mohawk, a braid coming off the back of her head draping over her shoulder. She wore a leather jacket, buttoned only where her stomach was. She had leather pads on her shoulders, adorned with spikes, and red war paint under her eyes. “What the fuck do you want Ramirez, I’m kinda bu-“ Her eyes laid upon Pérdido’s broken form and she froze. “I-Is, is that him?” She asked quietly. Pablo merely nodded. She walked up to him and looked down at him, watching as he tried to collect himself, still coughing up blood on the floor. She winced slightly when he collapsed, too exhausted to continue fighting. He looked up at her through blood shot, eyes, blood flowing freely down his face from multiple lacerations on his face. He let out a soft whimper and rested his face on the cool floor.

She turned and faced Pablo, “Leave us, I want to speak to him alone.” She spoke sternly. He merely raised his hands in mock surrender and turned to walk out. When the door closed, she faced the man that lie before her and sighed. She kneeled, and grasped his shoulders, helping him sit up, leaning him back against the wall. He looked at her through half lidded eyes, trying desperately to stay awake. 

She looked into his eyes and gave a shaky sigh. “They never told me you were just a kid, the way you talked, carried yourself, like a hardened veteran. Like a warrior.” Marco’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing her voice, and the way she said that word. “You’re th-the q-queen. Of the Junk-*Coughing*.” She gripped his shoulder as more blood poured from his mouth. She nodded softly. “You remind me so much of my son…so innocent, wrapped up in a world as brutal as ours, hardening yourself to survive. He didn’t deserve what happened to him..and…neither do you. I don’t know why you knocked out my cell towers, but I know survivalists don’t do shit like that without a personal reason.”

His eyes started to drift close, she smacked his face lightly, trying to keep him awake. He tried to widen them, forcing away his sleepiness. He needed something to focus on. He glanced down at his bleeding leg, a bloody slit where Pablo had stabbed him. He instantly dug his fingers into the wound, eliciting a pained grunt from him that forced his eyes open. She reared back, smacking his hand away from his leg. “Why did you do that, you’ll restart the bleeding?!” She exclaimed in shock. He said nothing diving his fingers back in, grunting more, and now panting, but fully awake and aware. 

He looked up at her, fear and desperation in his eyes. “I can’t do this again, I-I can’t keep killing for them. I…I-I need to get out of here.” He tried to stand up, put pulling on the chains released a harsh shock of electricity through his body. He roared in pain and convulsed on the floor, thrashing widely as the electricity played and pulled about his muscles. 

She leaned back, gasping softly, she was no stranger to brutality, but she respected this man, and she believed in a fair fight. This was just plain torture, once again, a thing that separates the Raiders from the Junkers. Not to mention, his uncanny resemblance to her late son, Micheal. She could see it, only those who had been though something similar would see it. The innocence within someone, burned and fringed as a hardened survivalist is born. Someone who does what it takes to live and breath each day, someone who would give life and limbs for those they loved. Then it hit her, he didn't destroy those towers for himself, he did it for someone, someone he probably cared about. She still didn't know, the exact reason, but it would be the only logical explanation for someone who doesn't even like going to the market. 

When the electricity stopped flowing, the screams had been replaced with a dark chuckle, he chuckled at nothing, staring at the floor, before his laughing became louder, then hysterical. He started slamming his head backwards, slamming it against the metal wall. The loud clang ringing around them room. She watched him, horror in her eyes, as the man simply crumbled. 

In his mind, it was game over, he was gonna die here, everything he did to survive, all for naught, it was enough to drive any normal person insane. The people he’s killed, the people he’s viciously slaughtered, he was a monster who was going to die in a cage.

“Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.Ideservethis.” He chanted over and over, not able to keep himself together anymore, tears poured from his eyes, but he never stopped whispering the words again and again. The queen kneeled and ran her slim fingers through his hair, and whispered to him softly, like trying to calm a crying child. 

“Shhhhhhhh, i-it’s okay…I-I’m here…Shhhhh, relax sweetie.” She cooed softly, her sultry voice calming him slightly. He looked up at her, no longer whispering to himself. “I just…I wanna go home.” He choked out a sob and went limp, the chains rattling as he hit the floor. Her eyes widened. She turned around and stood up yelling loudly. “I NEED A MEDIC IN HERE NOW!” She roared, fury in her voice.

—2 Hours Following—

Marco never opened his eyes right away when waking up, old trick he picked up in his first years here, helped him listen in on conversations, giving him useful information. This time was no different. Except what he did not expect was to hear the queen of the Junkers giving Pablo Ramirez, famed raider war lord, a verbal ass chewing.

“He’s kid for god’s sake, he can’t handle that amount of injuries, especially not unattended for multiple days, It’s a fucking miracle he’s even alive right now.” The queen said angrily, sneering at Pablo. He could hear Pablo scoff. “Please, he went though worse during the ‘Trails’. He can take this and more, he’s the perfect war machine. My men know what he’s capable of, he’s our ticket. Our ticket to getting in with the big boys, Talon.” He said with pride.

“Talon is a bunch of suit wearing, mass murdering fucks. If you join them, you’re no better than them.” She said in defiance. Marco tested his restraints and found, that he only had leather straps holding him down, he felt his mouth curve upward a tad. He sat up and with all his force in one mighty yank, split the leather and buckles on each hand. He leaped off the bed and flew at Pablo, tackling the man. Ramirez looked up at him, shock clear on his face, but quickly changing to that of a smug smirk.

“You were always the impressive one, this just goes to show what I mean. Two days of torture, passes out from blood loss. Given a transfusion and enough drugs to knock out an elephant, yet you wake up, bust out and have me at the throat, bravo, well done. But you always seem to forget something. “ Pablo spoke slowly. Soon Marco felt the cool feeling of a metal barrel pressed against the side of his head. He gave a shaky sigh, standing up with his arms raised. 

Pablo stood and fixed the cuffs of his suit, and rubbing his neck slightly, flanked by two of his men, guns trained on Marco. “Send him back to his cell, I want him back in those restraints, and give him some voltage so he remembers not to pull this stunt again.” He said harshly.

“He’s still weak right now, you'll kill him!” The queen yelled, trying to defend him, not noticing Marco wince at her statement. Pablo turned and faced her. “IS THERE SOMETHING YOU ARE NOT TELLING ME ABOUT THIS THING, BECAUSE IF SO I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHY YOU DEFEND HIM SO ADAMANTLY. He is property, our property. It’d suit you to remember that.” He said harshly, pointing at her. He turned and walked out, his men in tow, the two men behind Marco, started kicking him towards the door. She looked back at him, a look of pity on her face, she watched as he turned back to her and smiled sadly. She watched the door close and grunted angrily, turning and punching the wall, causing the slim metal plating to be left with a devastating dent. She huffed and looked out the window, to the dwindling sunlight.

‘I need to find those companions of his, soon..’ She thought to herself. She shook her head and clenched her fists as she wandered away from the clinic.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, there are a LOT of inconsistencies I've picked up reposting these chapters. I attempted to fix as many of them as I could find, point out any you see. Extra point for spelling errors. Today’s Special: Overwatch POV

—Watchpoint Gibraltar, Spain, 7 Days Since the Disappearance of Doctor Angela Ziegler— 

Lena “Tracer” Oxton, sat atop Winston’s tire chair, watching him work, a mopey expression plastered on her face. “Winston, luv?” She asked softly, exhaustion clear in her voice. He took off his glasses and faced her. “Yes, Lena? What is it?” He asked softly. “Can I keep working on the ship?” She asked timidly. He chuckled before breathing on his glasses and wiping it clean with his thumb. “I’m sorry Lena, but I can’t let you anymore. You’ve worked non-stop for days, you need a break. I know you miss her, we all do, but she can take care of herself, if at least until we manage to get the ship fixed.” He said, having already calculated her chance of survival with the assistance of Athena, the Watchpoint’s on site AI. 

Lena shifted her gaze to the floor, and sighed deeply. “But it’s the wasteland Winston, look at Jamison and Mako! They’re nuts, imagine if she fell right on some dusty bandit base! They could kill her!” She finally yelled, now awake, seemingly afraid and angry at the same time. Before he could retort, Athena’s voice cut them off. “Incoming transmission.” 

Lena and Winston’s head snapped up at the news. “From where?” They asked in unison. “The Australian Outback.” They both looked at each other and smiled before they both spoke in unison again. “Show us!” The screen went black before static showed up, but soon was replaced with an image of a latino man fiddling with the camera, trying to make it stand up straight. 

“Estúpida cámara de mierda, esa cosa nunca sabe cómo sólo levantarse! There we go, okay amiga, we’re rolling, we got about thirty minuets, give or take. Action!” The latino man stood up, revealing Angela sitting on a couch, in a room dimly lit by fire. She smiled brightly waving at the camera. “Hello everyone! I wanted to inform you I am still alive, I have been in the care of a local wastelander going by the name Pérdido, as well as his best friend here Ramirez.” She said gesturing to Ramirez who sat on the other end of the sofa, puffing on what looked like a wooden pipe. He coughed when mentioned and waved at the camera, trying to cover his coughing.

Angela looked concerned, but was still smiling. “Told you smoking was bad for you. Anyways, we need a pick up as soon as possible. We are located six miles south west of the Overwatch base, located by a chapel. And Winston…I have a personal question.”

She paused, looking hesitant, but still spoke. “Could you perhaps allow these men I’ve befriended to come with us to Overwatch, they are both incredibly talented in the art of combat. I’m sure they would do fine amongst out ranks.” She said proudly. Ramirez looked at her and gave her a cheeky smile. “Aww Amiga, you do care! You make me wanna cry!” He said in a string of giggles before propping his feet up. and leaning back to give Angela a noogie. She swatted at him as hell laughed. He leaned back again and looked at the camera. “Oh, Fareeha, if your watching, you still owe me that dinner for saving your ass.” He gave a mock two finger salute and abruptly stood up and walked off, a grin on his face.

Angela smiled as he walked away, then back at the camera. “I really want you to consider what I’ve asked Winston. I have seen what these two are capable of, especially Mar-Pérdido. He is extraordinarily gifted in CQC, more so than even Reyes was. He is also incredibly resilient, able to soak in damage, and still deliver powerful attacks. He is also a dead-eye, better than Jesse or even dare I say Anna…He was the one who took out that first missile before it hit us. Using an old bolt action, bullet cartridge rifle of all things.” She sighed and looked dreamily off into the distance. 

“He is a strange one for sure, but I think he would fit in perfect in Overwatch. Reply as soon as you can. I miss and love you all.” Angela smiled softly before cutting the camera off.

“End Transmission.” Athena spoke, before sighing and speaking. “I scanned what visual vitals I could during the transmission. She had a normal heart rate, and normal blood pressure. Meaning she most likely is not being held against her will. I have their exact coordinates locked, would you like to reply?” Athena asked, the question pointed at Winston, he smiled brightly before answering. “Of course, Lena, lets send a message to them shall we?”

—The Next Day—

The following morning, a meeting had been called at first light. The meeting room was packed to capacity as heroes lined either side. The watched Winston walk up to a podium of sorts and stare out amongst the crowd, smiling at the news he was about to deliver.

“As of last night at nearly nine o’clock, we received a transmission from our very own Doctor Ziegler. She is alive and in the care of some of the locals in the Outback. She spoke very highly of their combat skills, giving some compliments of extreme measure to one of them, claiming, and I quote, “Better in CQC than Reyes, and a dead-eye better than Jesse and possibly even better than our original Captain Amari herself.” He was the one who stopped the missile from hitting us using an old bullet rifle.”

Many brows raised at the news, of course happy as all hell to hear that their favorite resident doctor was alive and well. Although, this news of a heavily experienced fighter was interesting. From the way she talked about him, one would assume an older person, boy would they be surprised. Winston cleared his throat, not finished speaking. 

“As of now, our efforts should be completely focused on fixing that drop ship so we can pick up our doctor. And if the two wastelanders agree, we might have some new recruits. Also, Pharah!” She seemed to sharpen her sitting form as her named was called. “Yes sir?” She asked sharply. Winston began to smirk. “One of these men, one named Ramirez, said you still owe him a dinner date, for saving your butt apparently. Care to explain?” 

The woman in question looked down slightly disheartened, but easily maintaing composure. “He was a mercenary I met working in LA, who coincidently was from the same Outback. He didn’t survive the attack sir, I watched him go down with an enemy outpost, trying to play hero.” She said with a voice that she had to train for moments like this when her voice wanted to waver.

Winston raised a brow and had Athena pull up a profile picture of Ramirez, as well as a screenshot of him on the couch smoking a pipe next to, ‘Angela?’ She thought, then smiled. “So that crazy son of a bitch’s plan worked, and he lived. Huh…I guess I owe him a dinner date.” She said mostly to herself, but the teammates that heard her chuckled lowly. 

Winston cleared his throat again, once again gathering the attention of the Overwatch Agents. “This concludes today’s meeting. All engineers report to bay six and begin on today’s repairs of drop ship. We need it functional yesterday people.” With that, the gorilla along with most of the engineers as well as Lena sauntered out of the meeting room, most doing the same, but a few remaining, such as McCree, Pharah, Genji, and Junkrat and Roadhog. They still sat the table, waiting till the last cleared out before they began speaking. 

“I believe I know the person who will be arriving.” Mako said, his mask making his voice rumble. Jamison looked sharply up at Mako. “Do you remember that fighter that showed up mid-fight during the early days of the Gladiator arena. El Pérdido. The Lost. He was a legend in the ring, he was, what… like, nineteen last time we saw him.” Mako recalled.

“Oí, he’s right! I remember that kid, hell, he scared me, and I don’t scare easy! Kid is taller than Roadie.” Jamison gestured wildly. “Well, hold your horses there, partner. We don’t even know if it’s really even him that’s coming, I’m sure there are many other roamers out there in the wastes.” Jamison shook his head adamantly. “You don’t seem to understand, mate. There are very few roamer’s anymore. People are too chicken to try and fight off an entire faction themselves, much less multiple. He’s the only one I know managed in the years after the crazy Raider ‘Trails.’”

“What are the raider ‘Trails’?” Fareeha asked curiously. Jamison and Mako looked at each other. A look was shared, they looked at her, Mako rumbled deeply. 

“Something that have always separated raiders from junkers. They believe in slavery, and did this event a few years ago where they had slaves from around the world fight each other. Roamers began disappearing at a rapid rate. It was a mix to make money, and half to weed out the weak. They wanted an ultimate fighter. Well, they got it, some slave fought his way to the top, and eventually broke out with some outside help. Decimated the base and killed nearly everyone in it. There are rumors…that Pérdido was that slave, but no one knows for sure. One thing I know for sure, people are terrified of his name. It is spoken in whispers for good reason.” Mako finished ceremonially, as if he had rehearsed that conversation a hundred times before.

Although Genji’s expression was unreadable, McCree and Fareeha’s face showed one of awe. Fareeha leaned forward, intrigued. “This guy sounds like a legend and all, but didn’t you say he was only like nineteen when you last saw him?” She asked. Jamison nodded. “Actually, if the rumors are true, and he was in the ‘Trails’ from the beginning, that would have made him fifteen at its start.” Jamison said matter-of-factly. The three agents sitting across from the junkers adopted looks of mortification. “That’s horrible! Who would make a child fight in a ring in battles to the death?!” Fareeha exclaimed in horror. “Raiders…” Mako said softly, and…sadly.

—The cliffs overlooking the Atlantic—

Lucio and D.VA sat side by side staring off into the ocean, Hana was currently and whole heartedly focused on her hand held game. Lucio sighed and she glanced at him, before her eyes darted back to her game. “Something on your mind?” She asked innocently. He returned the glance before speaking. “Yeah, I was on that mission with Pharah, I’ve met the guy before, Ramirez. I thought he died too.” He said slowly. She looked at him. “So? The guy is alive, good! Maybe he’ll make a move on Fareeha during the date and she’ll lighten up around here.” Hana said jokingly.

“No, its great that he’s alive! Its just…we watched him, dive into an explosion… He said he had a plan…” He started

—4 Weeks Ago—

Lucio led the group of mercenaries down the alley way trying to meet up with Pharah and the stray merc than had gotten separated earlier. They saw the duo holding their position at the end of the alleyway. Lucio and Pharah waved to each other as the group closed in. 

“It’s good to see you Lucio, this is Ramirez. He’s not as green as we thought he was.” She said slyly. He smiled back at her. “Aww, was that a compliment, blue jay? Dios Mío, you must love me.” He said with a smug smirk. He focused he attention down the other end of the alley, watching the building across the street when some movement caught his eye. He trained his rifle on the area and signaled every to be quiet. Every fell silent, rifles raising. Ramirez took point and headed down the alleyway and stopped where it met the street. 

The roads were empty today, as reports of heavy gang activity in the area had persuaded everyone from approaching the area. They watched several gang members load crates into a truck from a garage on the side of a building. Ramirez signaled that he was going to move forward, and engage, when he felt a hand place itself on his shoulder. It was Pharah. He turned to face her.

“What is it amiga, we don’t have a lot of time.” He asked impatiently. “You plan on attacking them, yet there are easily twenty of them just outside. How the hell do you plan to taking them all down? The could suppress us from where we are. All we have is the element of surprise.” She said in a angry, hushed tone. He chuckled softly. “And don’t worry, Blue Jay, you’ll still get your stealth and surprise. I’m the only one charging in, don’t worry, I got a plan. Picked it up from an old friend. If I live, you owe me a dinner date. I have to see what your armored ass looks like in a nice dress. I’ll take you somewhere nice, so you better bring your best. Not that I expect anything less, you do pull the whole badass in blue pretty well. Stay safe beautiful.” 

He turned with that, ignoring the slight blush on her cheeks, and charged out into the street and began firing on the enemy members, easily dispatching them with quick, well placed head shots from his dual scorpions. The spray of red mist when he shot someone was new to some of the group, even Pharah to a degree. His weapon choice was unique as the latino man himself. He ducked and dodged, and weaved between closing in members with melee weapons. He summersaulted over a member, removing his machete from his enemies’ grasp. He used it to decapitate the gang member, eliciting terrified screams from the fellow members. He moved through like a ghost, twirling and spinning in-between terrified men, sweeping and chopping all along the way. Until he was the only one that remained, nearly twenty men, all laid chopped to pieces on the ground.

He held the dripping, bloody machete, and looked over his shoulder with a smirk aimed right at Fareeha. Her mouth was slightly ajar, watching him as he tossed the bladed weapon aside and raised his main rifle, a Hk416 and made his way forward. He kicked open the door and headed inside. Gun shots could be heard from the building. Pharah fought the urge to follow him, and fight along side the man. She watched the street, waiting for a contingency force. 

*BOOM*

Fire, dust, debris, heat. All things she felt, despite the endless ringing in her ears, and horrible ache all over her body. She pushed herself up and looked at where the building used to be. Now, a large pile of rubble, fire coming off the debris in droves. She walked towards the wreckage, slowly, the ringing finally beginning to ebb. “Ramirez! Ramirez, answer your comms! Damnit, RAMIREZ!” She roared. No reply. She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Pharah, we gotta go, I want to look for him too. The reinforcements will be here soon, though. All we can do is remember for what he did for us, and who he was.” Lucio tried to reason with the woman. She turned to face him, and looked down, trying to keep tears at bay. Although she was successful, she knew she would cry later on her own.

She shouldered her launcher and started to meet up with the group. Lucio turned one last time to the burning wreckage, plumes of black smoke bellowing into the sky, rising high above the nearby buildings. He sighed sadly, and turned to walk away. 

—Present—

Hana, wide-eyed, was now fully focused on Lucio as he retold the tale. She whistled lowly. “He survived that. Man, those wastelanders don’t fuck around do they? And to think if this Ramirez guy is capable of all that, imagine what the other guy could do. You heard what Winston said, better shot than Anna, better at CQC than Reaper. It only makes sense that this guys gotta be a legend.” Lucio nodded slowly. “I couldn't even imagine pissing off Jamison or Mako, much less those two. Hell I don’t even know ’em, but after what I’ve heard, all I know is I want to stay on their good side if and when they get here.” He said assuredly. 

—Hanger Bay 6—

Reinhardt held a metal plate in place, while Lena and Trobjörn welded it to the hull. Winston stood next to Satya and held a blueprints and pointed to Zarya carrying a heavy crate. “Zarya, could you bring that crate over here. It has the capacitor we’ll need for the rear thrusters. “Ja, how long do you think it vill be Vinston, until the ship is repaired?” He was about to answer when Lena answered for him. “Probably a week if we really push it. But if we move at the pace we have been, probably another two weeks.” She said, lifting the welders mask up, revealing the bouncy brit’s, oil stained face. She looked at Winston, and looked at her co-worker nervously, she trotted over to Winston while everyone else continued their work, and tapped on his shoulder, gesturing for him to follow silently. 

As soon as they were a distance away, Lena turned and faced Winston. “I have a favor to ask, luv. Could Emily stay here for a while? She’s been kicked out of her apartment because she couldn’t afford rent, yeah? She would probably get a job in Gibraltar, and she can live in my dorm!” She seemed excited at the prospect. Winston sighed, not sure if allowing such a thing would be a good idea. He thought deeply for a moment before giving her a sly smile. “Only if you ask her to bake that peanut butter, banana bread she makes so well.” Lena’s eyes widened and she tackled Winston into a bear hug, squealing with happiness. “Thankyou!Thankyou!Thankyou!” She chanted again and again. He laughed heartily at her reaction, always happy to bring good things to the spritely, cheery brit. After a moment, she broke the hug, giving him a rather perplexed look.

“Wait, where are the two new guys gonna live? If Emily didn’t stay with me, we wouldn't have a free room for her anyways.” He sat back, having not considered such arrangements. Before he smirked at her. “I’m sure you wouldn't mind housing one of them, especially since i’m being kind and letting Emily stay here.” He said, trying to see if he could kill two birds with one stone. She cringed, if he was anything like Jamison or Mako, she didn’t know if she wanted that. Soon another question hit her. “Which one would stay with Emily and I? That Ramirez fellow seemed okay, but that Pérdido guy is apparently some kinda super waster, and I don’t know if I want that, to sleep on my couch, especially not with my special gal right next to me. I hope you understand, luv.” She said hesitantly. He looked disheartened, yet determined. “We’ll see what he’s like first.” Winston said encouragingly. 

Lena shrugged, and he smiled in reply. “So Lena, are you excited to have Emily come here?” Winston asked, a grin on his face. She smiled brightly and nodded enthusiastically. “I bet she’ll love you all as much as you’ll love her! She’s the sweetest, funniest, most beautiful girl in the world! It stinks I haven’t been able see her since I answered the recall…But thats okay, she will be here in couple hours!” Her hands clamped over her mouth and started to panic when Winston gave her a deadpanned look. “You already told her I said yes, didn’t you?” He asked stoically.

She immediately began to plea. “I’m so sorry, luv! I couldn’t stand the thought of her staying at some shelter. If she doesn't have her own home, I always want her to at least have me to help where I can.” She spoke proudly in defense of her girlfriend. Winston hushed her, as to not alert the other agents working on the ship, some of which were glancing in their direction. “Look, I understand, which is why I’m not upset. Just be honest and ask me first next time, please?” She nodded slowly, feeling like a child being scolded. He hummed happily at her response.

—Recreation Room—

“A better shot than me? Huh, he must have had training.” Anna mused softly, from her spot at the table sipping tea, as to not burn her pallet. Jack grunted softly from the sofa, not exactly agreeing. “Jesse didn’t have training, at least not ‘till he joined us. Reyes, Lucio, Hana, Angela, Winston, hell, even Genji didn’t really have the training he needed until he joined us, and he was kicking plenty of ass before hand. I’m not saying this kid is some crack shot legend, but we shouldn’t underestimate him.” He said matter-of-factly. Anna only snorted. “And better in close quarters combat than Reyes? Is Angela serious, Reyes’s CQC is what made him the legendary Reaper his is today.” She said, distaste clear in her voice. 

Jack raised a brow behind his visor. “You don’t even know this guy, why the hell do you dislike him so much?” He asked curiously. She sighed, a scowl plastered on her face. “Perhaps I’m just jumping to conclusions, but if I’ve learned anything from meeting Mako and especially Jamison, they are insane, untrustworthy, and just plain barbaric at times. Its disgusting.” She said in malcontent. 

Jack focused on her fully, sitting up and facing her. “And the whole saving our ass from the missile, with a bullet gun. I thought those things were outlawed for their brutality. Normal bullets expand, making them exceptionally lethal. Our pulse rounds, while having plenty of penetration, don’t have expanding capabilities or a ton of stopping power like his.” She hummed in agreement. “Both of their weapon choices are, odd…Even the junkers don’t use bullet guns, Mako’s shotgun still uses pulse shells. Fareeha told me about, that Ramirez fellow. She seemed to like him. She thought he died. I wished it would have stayed that way. The last thing I need is my little Fareeha falling for some savage wastelander.” She said in disgust. Jack could only chuckle. She raised a brow at him. “I remember when you said almost the same thing about Jesse.” He shot back. She could only stare sternly in return.

—4 Hours Following/Watchpoint Gibraltar: Gates—

Lena bounced in her spot, excited to see her girlfriend, waiting for the sight of a yellow taxi, coming up to the gate of the base. Winston, Genji, and McCree stood by her side, awaiting for the woman they’ve all heard about, but have never seen, to arrive. Soon enough, a taxi could be seen making its way up the long rocky road. Lena was practically vibrating at this point.

As soon as the taxi pulled up, a woman with long, red hair, exited the back of the taxi, dressed in a red sweater and skinny jeans. She wasn’t kidding when she said the woman was beautiful. Genji elbowed Jesse slightly and whispered quietly to Jesse. “Is it just me, or do you also really wanna watch them kiss too?” Jesse simply smiled and hummed in agreement, before whispering in return. “I’m just waiting for it now.” He said smiling. 

Lena ran forward and tackled the red head into a hug, planting a flurry of kisses on her cheeks. The woman laughed returning the hug in kind. Emily caught sight of the others and practically had to pry off her girlfriend to properly introduce herself. “Hello to you all! My name is Emily, Lena has told me much about all of you!” She said brightly. Winston stuck a paw in her direction, gesturing to shake hands. “Likewise, Emily. My name is Winston, and these to gentlemen are Jesse McCree, and Genji Shimada. They wanted to meet you today.” They exchanged pleasantries and introductions before entering the base, Lena seeming happier than she had been in a long time.

—End Day 7—


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double digits, woo hoo! I'll try to clean these up best I can, and keep the aspect the same. Today’s Special: Angela/Ramirez POV

—Deep in The Heart of The Australian Outback Wasteland—

Angela was sitting on the couch, typing furiously on Ramirez’s laptop trying to find satellite images of the raider base Marco was being held at. She currently wore one of Marco’s flannels and a pair of skinny jeans, with worn, leather work boots on her feet. Ramirez was currently atop the workshop table in the same place he was when Angela first saw the man. He was clad in his armor, having neglected taking it off since they had arrived home two days ago, even sleeping in it. 

He looked down cast, staring off into nothing. She ceased her typing and focussed her attention on her down trodden friend. She closed the laptop and stood up, stretching for a moment after. She approached him and placed a hand on his cheek, she could feel where tears had trailed down his cheeks. She sighed sadly, he looked up at her, his stern gaze, only betrayed by the faint wet trails down his cheeks.

“Its okay, Ramirez…I miss him too.” She pulled the man into a hug, resting her head on top of his, him being shorter than Marco made this easier. She rubbed his back softly, he lazily wrapped his arms around her. Letting tears soak into one of Marco’s many flannels she was wrapped in. Soon enough he broke the hug and sat back, sniffing softly. “Why…Why did that dumb motherfucker do that? Es demasiado joven…If they got him back, who know’s what those pendejos will do to him. I’m not on the inside anymore, I can’t break him out…I failed him..” He grit his teeth and roared in frustration. Angela reared back, wide eyed, not expecting him to be this upset about this.

“Ramirez, we’ll get him back, its not gonna be a problem. Hell, maybe we can send another transmission, try and-“ Ramirez stood up abruptly, a look of anger plastered on his features, and interrupted her. “You just don’t seem to fucking understand. They will break him down just like they had to the first time, make him obedient. Since he’s older, he can ‘handle more’ according to the raider doctors. They’ll fuck him up, and they’ll fuck him up good. They will tear his fuckin’ soul out and show it to him! This is the fucking wasteland baby! Welcome to hell on earth!” He roared, arms spread wide. 

She leaned back, mortified at how he was acting. Was he serious? No one can be that cruel…no..they couldn’t. He wouldn’t last long, considering all recent injuries and the fact his body was becoming used to her nano technology in the first few days, now without his body will take much longer to heal. Oh god… A hand flew to her mouth and she let out a strangled sob. Ramirez knew he messed up instantly, flying to her side.

“I’m so s-sorry Angela, I-I never meant to scare you like that.” He said trying to alleviate her new found worries. He was about to speak when a new voice made him and her freeze. 

“Hey Ramirez, I know you’re in there. Come out with your hands up, I just want to talk.” The voice was feminine, sultry and deep, boosted by what sounded like a megaphone. He looked at Angela with wide eyes and mouthed the words, ‘gear up’. He ran to his bag and removed his AK-PSL and made for the bell tower. 

When at the top he aimed his rifle down at what appeared to be an enormous crowd out front, trucks and cars all around. ‘So…escape seemed like a cowards plan anyways.’ He thought irritated. He then saw her. The battle axe of legend slung over her shoulder, her brunette mohawk and braid contrasted with her olive skin and shadowy war paint. She glanced up at the tower and must have noticed the glint from his scope, but chose not to panic, only smirking where she knew Ramirez could see it. 

She took a few steps forward, swaying her hips with each step. She brought the megaphone back up to her mouth. “If you want info on your boy Pérdido’s whereabout, move those crosshairs off my head, put the fucking gun down, and get down here.” She said with waning patience. 

Ramirez sighed and placed the rifle down and made his was down the stairs, seeing Angela fully geared up, looking at him expectantly. He gestured for her to follow, walking to the large oak doors, and pushing them open. He strolled out of the church with his hand lazily held up. Angela looked far more on guard, a scowl on her face, but hands up. 

The queen stepped forward and laughed loudly, some of her upper ranked men laughing along side her. She let the battle axe hit blade first into the ground, choosing to lean on its long handle. “You know, we should have done this years ago, would could have caught you. But lucky for you, your bestie is in trouble, and I like his attitude. So i’ll give you some information on how you can break his ass out.” She said cooly. Ramirez looked more than skeptical. 

“Okay, how about this, you answers some questions we have first, gotta cover your bases, right amiga?” He said with a smirk. “I’m not your amiga. You’ve pissed me off plenty of times, enough where I should have you killed. But I’ll answer your stupid questions.” She said with a slight scowl. “How did you find us?” Ramirez asked evenly.

She smirked slightly. “Proud of myself for that one, figured we would triangulate where the towers you had shut down. This is the only building for miles and we know you wouldn't have been at the old overwatch base because that’s where they said they found him. Next question.” She said smugly. 

“Why are you helping us, you have nothing to gain. Why?” Ramirez asked, squinting at her in narrowed suspicion. That question made her pause for a moment, she looked at her men, who also waited for her answer. “Men! Keep yourself busy! Watch the roads!” She roared. With no hesitation she began walking towards the church, pointing at the duo. “Follow me.” She spoke curtly.

Once inside with the doors closed and themselves seated around the workshop table, illuminated by the cracks and holes in the ceiling. The Queen looked around, taking in the building, she looked around in pity. “Who the hell would want to live like this? Is this your place Ramirez? This place might as well be no man’s land.” She asked softly. 

Ramirez caught her gaze, and looked sternly at her. “It’s Pérdido’s. He’s been living like this since he escaped the raider’s grasp the first time.” He spat the raider’s name with venom. Her eyes widened considerably. “You mean the rumors are true, Pérdido was the winner of the ‘Trials’? You were the one who broke him out.” Not a question, but an observation.

He smirked at her perception. “Damn right, we bombed the shit out of those pendejos.” He smiled widely at the memory, before going back to his near stoic face. “So enlighten me, why the hell would you potentially put your whole faction in the sights of the raiders, all to free someone who shut down three of your towers?” He asked condescendingly. 

She scowled at his tone, but ignored it. “He…He reminds me of my late son. Everytime I look at his face, for a brief moment, I could see them almost being brothers in another life. He’s so innocent, so pure. And those fucking monsters are tearing him apart. I won’t stand by idly by and watch him fall to them. I know his tale, I know how far he’s come. He deserves so much better.” She trailed off sadly, Angela and Ramirez looked down. “That’s something I think we all can agree on.” Angela spoke sadly.

“Let’s talk info.” The Queen spoke sternly, trying to avoid topics that would provoke her emotions. She held out a holodisk and activated it. A overview GPS appeared, showing the location of the base the raiders resided in. Showing by a blinking red dot, hanging to the southern half of the Dunes of the South. “Your daddio decided the raiders needed a slightly better imagine if he truly wanted to get to the size of the population he had before. He sized up, old junkyard and recycling plant, refurbished with skulls, blood, and assholes in suits with some fancy gun. Hell, this asshole had the nerve to want to work with those Talon pricks. Can you believe him?” She said in anger. 

“The raiders want to fight with Talon?” Angela asked quietly. The Queen nodded softly. “Thats what they want Pérdido for, as a ticket into Talon. They told them if the raiders could whip him into shape, make him obedient, focus his rage. He would be the ticket into their integration into the organization.” She said in worry. Angela stepped forward. “They want a new agent, someone who’s a master of all fields…” She concluded, fear evident in her voice. The Queen nodded again. 

“The base is a few hundred meters wide, but mostly underground. The recycling plant itself, is quiet upon entry, but there are snipers…here.” The hologram zoomed on the blinking red dot to show a mill looking building in the middle of the desert. Its permitter lined with a chain link barbered wire fence. Several spots on the roof of the building lit up, sniper nests.

“By the way, you asked what I have to gain from this. So i’ll be honest. It’s less about what i’ll gain, and more so about i’d lose. As soon as their forces assimilated with Talon, they would come for me, and my men. They’d kill us all. Take over, everything. So more or less for the future of this wasteland, we need to at least delay them by getting Pérdido the fuck out of there. Now, where was I, ah, that’s right.” She hit some buttons and the building became more transparent, showing tunnels running underneath the building, and a light popping up at the end of one of those tunnels. 

“He’s here. Cell block H-328. In a highly electrified restraint. Any amount of tugging will electrocute the shit out of him, bare that in mind. There is apparently a bigger base elsewhere, so I can imagine the soldier count for this place is not enormous. Maybe two hundred men, two fifty at most. Most carry small arms. So as long as you have a good rifle aimed their way, you should be good. I’ll have some of my junkers suppress them, and I’ll send you one of my few snipers. The rest of the reinforcements are up to you.” She said curtly. 

“Do you mind if we send another transmission, if we get the right back-up, we can send your men back to you alive?” He asked coyly. She rolled her eyes and threw her hands into the air. Find, you have three hours. I’ll send my men now. I need to get back before I’m missed. They don’t exactly know I’m here. You can keep the data pad, just try to be careful, message me on the holodisk when you’re ready to proceed.” She stood from the table, and made her way for the door. 

“Hey..” Ramirez said softly. “Thanks, for helping us. I know you don’t like us, me especially. But you doing this probably just saved his life. So…thank you.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. She simply smiled, winked at him and left. When the doors closed, the duo let out a breath, neither knew they were holding. “Okay, that went a lot better than I had expected, gotta say amiga.” Ramirez exclaimed with a sigh. “Thought she was gonna gun us down.”

Angela raised a brow. “You mentioned on your first day here that you managed to make her angry, what did you do exactly?” She asked, raising a brow. He chuckled nervously. “They had this really cool shipments of weapons, see? And these were some top quality bullet rifles. Good, sturdy hardware that you find once in a lifetime. I had to go for it. Its where I got my ATG!” He said with glee. She rolled her eyes. “You really are nuts, aren’t you?” She asked jokingly. “You know it amiga. So, let’s send that message to Overwatch shall we?” He waved dramatically at the laptop and portable camera. She giggled and got up from the workshop table, making her way over to the couch and sitting down. Ramirez grabbed the laptop and followed, setting the camera up and setting up his laptop to get a transmission prepared.

“Alright, we’re rolling amiga. I’ll start us off this time. Recently, our mutual friend Pérdido decided to be fucking stupid and play hero.” Ramirez said with obvious malcontent. Angela scowled at him. “Stop getting at angry him for his decision. He did what he thought was necessary to save us. Could you not tell he was bluffing the whole time?” She asked incredulously. 

“That wasn’t a bluff! That stupid motherfucker actually has a neutron bomb, I watched him build the fucker! He was dead fucking serious, if he couldn't see a way out, and he couldn’t until he realized why they were there, he would have killed us all with that thing. He said it best. ‘No life at all is better than the one you’ve offered us.’ or some shit like that. I’m mad as hell he almost pulled the cord on this one. It’s not the first time, so i’m not entirely surprised.” He trailed off when he realized Angela looked frozen. She seemed worried, angry, and a tad fearful all at once.

“He’s done that before?” She asked darkly. He gulped and nodded. “Yeah, back in the early days after the trials, he got surrounded by junkers and I was wounded pretty bad. He knew he need to bluff, but had nothing to bluff with, he used a defused mine with a pulse grenade inside to make it look like a neutron bomb. They bought it. I congratulated his innovation, but he must have taken it too far. He actually started to build the bomb. I warned him what the risks were. But he didn’t care, all he would say is, “If I go down, they all go with me.” Ramirez shivered and sighed. 

“He scares even me sometimes. We got far off track. Okay, basically we went to the old Overwatch base and finished your mission. Collecting anything worth value. I still have it. Unfortunately, raiders come in behind us and locked us in. Pérdido sacrificed himself for us, into the Raider’s custody. We need your assistance as soon as possible. I’ll send all the information on the base to you as an attachment to the message. Look, I don’t know if Overwatch really cares enough about one person, but if you do choose to help..well, I hope you do.” He stood up and walked out of the church, presumably to smoke a cigar. 

Angela looked down and gave a shaky sigh. “The queen of the junkers gave us the information. Long story short, personal reasons as well as trying to prevent her faction from being wiped off the map. Thats because the raiders that has Pérdido, plan to integrate with Talon. Pérdido apparently is their ticket. Talon wanted him to be turned into one of their agents. I don’t know how deep this goes, but it’s getting more complicated as time goes on. They are t-torturing him, trying to make him conform. He won’t last long. Please everyone, he doesn’t deserve to die like this, not in the hands of the people he spent his life trying to escape from. We need to help him.” Angela spoke softly.

She looked down, out of view of the camera, and tried to calm herself, before returning her gaze to the camera. “Everyone, be safe. And please…make haste.” 

“End Transmission.” Athena spoke softly. Her tone conveying a sense of shock, that many of the agents felt. Eyes were all wide at the information they had received. 

“Any questions?” Winston asked after a few moments of silence. A few hands raised quickly. He pointed at Soldier 76. “Talon teaming up with raiders seems unlikely. Unless they based them in Australia, and even if they did, it would be easier to just take their agent, and wipe them out.” He said. 

“What about when the Omnics teamed up with that genocidial terrorist cell back about fifteen years ago? They ended up getting wiped out during their final stand.” Reinhardt chimed in.

“You forget Talon and Atom’s Children had two completely different goals in mind. Talon wants control, Atom’s Children just wanted everyone dead. They were more of a cult.” Ana added informatively, mostly agreeing with Morrison. 

“Oi, don’t forget that the Junker queen herself gave them that info, could be a pile of shit!” Junkrat yelled from further down the table. 

Lucio didn’t seem to agree. “We all heard Angela, she’s tied into this not only by her faction, but for personal reasons. A. I don’t peg Angela as a liar. B. I don’t think someone would just hand out that info like that without some personal motive behind it, do you?” He asked quickly. 

“Also, can we please talk about how this insane wastelander used a damn neutron bomb to prevent their capture? Creative but ultimately unrewarding tactic.” Torbjörn stated grimly. 

“Someone must see life in a very simple way to achieve such lack of fear for death.” Zenyetta offered cryptically. Genji tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean Master?” 

“I have learned that those that are the most destructive, are equally self-destructive unless they live for the chaos. And judging by his actions to sacrifice himself for both Angela and his best friend goes to show that there are truly thing this man cares for, and is willing to defend with his life.” Zenyetta stated factually. Some brows raised lightly at the prospect. 

“Are all the questions out of the way?” No hands rose. “Good, we have a rescue mission people, and we can’t do that with a functional ship. So today, I want all agents to report to Hanger Bay 6. Those that have yet to eat, feel free to visit the mess hall before going to the hanger.” Winston finished the meeting, and turned to head for the hanger, when a cheery british voice caught his attention, causing him to smile.

“Winston, luv!” Lena yelled as she zipped to his side, giving him a good morning hug. He smiled at her. “Good morning Lena, are you doing well this morning?” She smiled brightly. “Better sleep last night than I’ve had in years, luv. Thank you so much for letting Emily stay here, even most of the nightmares are stopping!” She said in an excited whisper. He reared back, and picked her up, slinging her around in a tight hug, listening to her cheerful giggles. “That’s wonderful Lena! I’m so glad, Emily has brought you such peace.” He said setting her down.

They began making their way to the hanger, when a voice caused Lena to whirl around. “Emily!” Lena yelled and blinked right in front of her girlfriend, catching her off guard. She yelped and fell back, but did not hit the ground, she hit something…soft. 

She slowly looked up to see a large man in a hog gas mask looking down at her. “Hi.” He said in his deep distorted voice. She screamed and flew forward towards Lena, tackling the poor woman. Winston, Lena, and Mako burst into laughter. Mako’s laughter coming across as a deep rumble. Emily’s terrified look changed to one of confusion, her cheeks burning red with embarrassment. 

“I don’t believe we’ve m-met before, s-sir. My name is Emily, I’m Lena’s girlfriend.” Mako took her hand and shook it. He suddenly pulled her closer and leaned the mask next to her ear.

“On tuesdays, wednesdays, thursdays, and sundays at roughly seven thirty in the evening, Fareeha, Angela, Lena, Mei, and I watch Iron Chef in Mei’s dorm. Bring a box of wine, and you’ll do just fine.” He stood back up at full height, and did one final shake of her hand. “Name’s Mako, codename Roadhog. See ya around.” With that, he sauntered back the way he came.

Lena came back up to her. “Are you okay, luv? What did he say to you?” Emily’s semi-shocked exression was replaced with that of a smirk. “You like Iron Chef?” She asked innocently.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s Roll! Today’s Special, break out attempt 2, movie quotes i don't own, and don't forget references that might go over the younger generations head..

—Deep within the Dunes of the South in the Australian Outback Wasteland—

He roared as the heated metal was slammed into his ribs, pulling tightly on the chains, simultaneously electrocuting him. Strands of electricity could be seen arcing off the metal against his skin, leaving it red, burned, and bleeding. Blood poured over the metal braces of the chest anchor that held him. His limbs pinned to the ground, he pulled tightly on the chains, as his torturers, three men with cloth sacks over their head, holes cut for the eyes, mercilessly beat, shocked, burned, and stabbed the man. His ragged cloth shorts were being burned and shredded from the arcs that leaped from his restraint. 

All actions ceased for a moment when a knock could be heard at the door. One of the masked men moved to the door and opened it, Pablo stepping in, walked forward approaching slowly, smiling at Pérdido’s exhausted form. He was kneeling, sweat, blood, and tears hit the floor. 

“Have you learned your lesson, do you know who you fight for?”

He gave a shaky breath, gritting his teeth and looking up. The muzzle blocked most of his face, but his eyes showing an evil glare. One of someone imagining a million ways to kill someone.

“F-Fuck you..”

Pablo sighed, despite it being muffled, his answer was clear. He looked at his men and nodded. He stood an quickly left the room. One of the men grabbed a case, one that Pérdido recognized, he felt his heart drop. He looked around frantically, the men’s attention was on their friend setting up the device. He looked over his shoulder as best as he could. He could see where the metal prongs that electrocute the chains, were red hot. 

‘It’ll be a stretch, but I’ll give it my all…’ He thought hopefully.

He took a deep breath and yanked him self forward. He felt the electrical currents attacking his skin, nerves, and muscles. The men’s attention was on him now, simply…watching. He kept leaning all his weight forward, bringing a foot around, bracing himself in a single knee kneel. He began pushing all his weight up, using his adrenaline to ignore the horrible burning pain attacking his nervous system. He could feel himself gaining height, pulling the super heated chain to its limits.

*CHINK*

The chain snapped and forced his body to do a quick whirl, the super heated chains, slamming into the two close men, sending them to the floor screaming, holes in the side of the masks, smoke bellowing out of it. He charged forward, the man already had pulled the item out of the box and had it whirring up. He held up the circular saw and held the trigger as the armored behemoth charged forward. Pérdido slid underneath the swing of the saw and exposed the back of the chains to the direction of the blade. 

*Clink*

He smiled behind his mask as he felt his arms become free again. He turned and sent a kick into the man’s knee, sending it completely backwards. He walked up to the screaming man and stomped on his neck, repeating the process with the other two. He walked over to where the man had dropped the saw, and picked it up, using it to cut more of the chains off, but choosing to keep on the center chest piece. Cutting the locks so he could remove it if he chose. It was sturdy like armor, but still allowed him freedom. He checked the tortures and found one of them had a Glock 17 pistol and a few mags. He also found two combat knifes and grabbed them as well as the pistol’s holster. He tucked the mags in-between his chest and the restraint. 

He did a double check and froze when he heard a sharp knock on the door. He went to hide behind the door, and waited until the door opened. He heard a female gasp, one he recognized. He waited until she was out of the way of the door and closed it behind her. She spun around and faced him. The Queen of the Junkers stood before him, wide eyed, her pistol drawn on him. She sighed and lowered her gun. 

“You scared the fuck out of me. How the hell did you break out? That was a tough- are you using the restraint as armor?” She asked in disbelief. He said nothing, the muzzle still firmly clasped around the lower half of his face, but chose to offer what little of a nod he could. She whistled lowly.

“You are one tough son of a bitch, you know that?” She asked, clearly impressed. She walked forward and he stepped into the light, exposing himself. She gasped in horror at his condition. He was severely burned all over. The only place it looked like blades took the place of flame was his face. Despite many of the now charred stab wounds that littered his body. He said nothing still, remaining quiet.

She looked at him, sadness and pity clear in her expression. She stepped forward and placed a hand on the side of his head, looking up at the armored giant. “If you plan to break out, now’s the time. Overwatch is almost on their way. But if you leave now, you could get over powered. You need to stay here until they arrive. She raised her brows when he shook his head. He stepped around her and yanked the door open. She bolted out the doorway, watching him head down the hall, trying to find his way out. She decided its probably best to get into position, and meet Overwatch and Ramirez. But that means she needs to go the same way he is. She looked behind her and decided to try to find a back way to use as an alibi. She took one last glace at him and turned to run.

Pérdido began to speed walk, and eventually broke into a sprint. Running through the halls at blinding speeds that would make Lena herself break a slight sweat. He felt the rush of freedom, and it was euphoric.

He caught the sight of two men walking the same way he was, and leaped forward with a knife in either hand, slamming each one into the back of their necks, not slowing down as he ripped them out and kept running. He dispatched any stray raiders he found wandering the halls of the old plant. He eventual came across to armed raiders standing in front of a door with a crudely drawn sign that said, ‘Armory’. 

He held the two knives by the blade and slung them around the corner with all his force, having them both embed themselves into the raider’s necks. They slumped against the wall and he rounded the corner and collected his knives, making his way into the armory. 

On various tables and shelves lie guns and makeshift armor of all different kinds. He smiled softly, he was going to enjoy this. He found his kevlar vest and duster, along with combat pants and boots, choosing to take the restraint off to place the kevlar underneath. He looked through some extra shelves and found a brown, leather hood that was meant to loop around the inside collar of a duster. He saw his rebreather and grabbed it. He took off the muzzle and sighed, stretching his jaw and running his hand along the heavy scruff on his face, feeling the scars on his face, new and old.

‘You knew that this was going to happen eventually, why don’t you give up? Or does death scare you, so much that the only way to fight that fear, was to become immortal?’

He shook his head at the memory, gritting his teeth as he placed armed shoulder pads, adorned with spikes, on the shoulders of the metal chest restraint. Pérdido placed the now heavily armored restraint around him, latching it into place. He placed his duster over his shoulders, the top of the leather resting on the spikes, and yanked down, sending the spikes through the top of the duster’s shoulders, sticking in the open air. He smiled widely, latching his rebreather around his face, and flipping the hood up. He looked into the cracked mirror, peaking from underneath the leather hood, smirking at his appearance, he looked like a fucking badass.

He started rooting through the weapons, and quickly found his dual 1911’s as well as his machetes and gear belt. He also found his 1887 lever action shotgun, as well as his Kris Vector. He glanced at a small safe next to the door, he walk forward and aim his 1911 at the handle at an angle and fired, sending the door open. He saw his Neutron bomb, and instantly smiled, grabbing it. He shouldered his sub machine-gun and turned to face the door. He took a deep breath and kicked the door open. A raider examining the bodies in alarm spun to face him, but was met with a wall of .45 rounds. The man slumped to the floor next to his fellow raiders. 

He kept going down the hall, running quickly, killing anything and everything in his way. He watched as his kill count rose steadily. A fact about Marco that few knew. He always kept track of how many people he’s killed. As of right now; 3,653, 3,654, 3,655…

At this point, all he could see was red, he unsheathed his machetes and began twirling and chopping at lightning speeds, sending limbs, heads, and blood everywhere. He came to a break in the hallway, where a crudely built staircase led to what he presumed used to be a cargo chute. He climbed the stairs quickly, making his way for the surface. He came upon another hallway. This one, filled to the brim with unarmed enemies.

Many choose to scream at the sight of the towering, armored, machete wielding man. He rushed forward with no warning, decapitating and dismembering his enemies in droves. Soon, he had plowed through the crowd or raiders, the room looked like something out of a horror show. Blood splattered everywhere, body parts, absolutely no survivors. 

He continued through the base with efficient ease, dispatching anything that stood in his way. That is until he reached what seemed to be a hanger like room. Hundreds of raiders sat up on the rafters, rifles and spotlights trained on the blood soaked man before them. Ramirez, tailed by two raiders in makeshift power armor, sauntered forward. The power armor was crude, missing many plates, and even having a few thin but long areas where joints and the neck were completely exposed. 

‘Perfect’ He thought smugly.

“You know? I was wrong about you, gringo. You are single handedly, one of the must stubborn creatures I have ever seen. We shoot you, we stab you, we burn you…and you just don’t stay down. I have to admit, you are truly a fighter till the end. I respect that. We were gonna hand you over to Talon. But this…you’ve really pissed me off this time. So you know what, fuck Talon. You’re gonna die. Men, kill this pendejo.” Pablo said without batting an eye, he turned and made his was back into the shadows, the two power armored raiders began circling him. 

He kept his machetes handy, and gripped them tighter as a blade from each gauntlet was extended on the raiders’ power armor. The trio charged to the center of the room, blades clashing upon contact. He ducked under some of the hydraulic backed swings, and barely managed to block the onslaught to his right. He bobbed and weaved between the two, flipping, sliding, and rolling to avoid their continued attack. 

On an upward roll, he spun around, send the machete with full force into one of the slats on the neck of the armor, he brought his foot to the armored raider, and kicked him free from his blades grasp, watching with apathy as blood squirted from the hole. The raiders armored hands grasped at the slats, trying to stop the bleeding, only to grow still after a moment.

The other raider seemed to notice the weakness of the armor and kept his weak points more covered. Pérdido’s duster bellowed behind him as he charged the armored survivor. He jumped into the air with all his might and plunged the machete down with all his might, and in one David vs Goliath moment, the blade slammed into the weak collarbone guard, the blade tearing into the raider’s body. He ripped the machete free and watched as blood dripped down the blade, dripping on the armored raider’s torso.

He looked around, watching the awe and fear in many of the aged veterans of the wastes. They watched the hooded man gaze around the room, all too afraid to move. They’ve lost someone piloting those suit, much less both.

He began twirling his machete and held his hands out. “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?” He roared, his rebreather making his voice, borderline demonic. 

Silence prevailed. He rolled his eyes and bolted for the doors Pablo had gone through, leaving a room full of confused and angry raiders. He was through the doors and broke into a sprint. He sheathed his machetes and unholstered his 1911’s, keeping his aim forward, giving a quick tug of the trigger upon sight of his enemies. 

He opened a metal door at the end of a hallway and found stairs that lead up, he began making his way up. At the top of the stairs, a big iron door. He walked up to the keypad and pulled off the cover, and began his hot-wiring of the pad. Soon enough, a few sparks flew, and a green light followed by a beep led to the large iron door swung open. 

He stepped out into what looked like…the old abandoned recycling plant. “They really couldn't have been any more creative?” He asked himself out loud. Before he could react, a hand wrapped around his neck, and threw him across the factory floor, sending him tumbling into a stack of barrels. Grunting as he pushed them off and stood up. 

There, an armored man with a skull mask stood before him. He didn't say anything, just charged forward. His eyes widened when he turned into a cloud of black mist and teleported behind him. Running on instinct, he picked up a metal plate on the ground, and spun around holding it up as a shield. Hellfire rounds slammed into the thick steel plate, sending him stumbling backward, gritting his teeth, he found his footing and charged forward. When he was close enough he ducked under the final shot and swung the plate upward, connecting it with the masked man, send him soaring across the factory, landing on an old piece of equipment. 

He could see a faint red glow in his peripheral vision, and brought the plate back up, saving his life as a sniper pulse round slammed into the plate. He ducked behind some machinery, and unholstered his 1911’s, crawling along the base of the machinery, to get a better sight on the sniper. He looked up to see a woman with..’Blue skin?’ He thought in awe. He shook his head and fired both pistols, the first two rounds each landed their own home on her. 

He saw blood shoot out her shoulder and thigh. He smiled and kept running around the machinery to see the skull masked man looking up at his sniper friend, presumably in worry. He opened fired unleashing as many bullets as he could. He heard the being roar, something supernatural sounding. He reloaded his pistols another torrent of bullets in the creature’s direction. It fell to it’s knees. Black liquid with mist coming out of it leaked from his chest. He turned into his cloud form and flew past where his sniping buddy…used to be. 

He spun around and she leaped at him blade of her own in her hands, attempting to stab the man from behind. He dodged the attack, dodging and weaving from her hits and kicked her in the chest, sending her flying into a pipe.

*BANG*

Rust and dust flaked away from the pipe as she slammed into it. She slid down, on the floor, battling unconsciousness. She watched the behemoth man approach her an kneel down, looking her damaged form over. She could not see his eyes, for they were blocked by the hood he wore, as well as his mask covering his face. For the first time since she had been brainwashed, she was feeling a emotion; fear. 

This is singlehandedly the closest she has ever come to dying during a mission. She feared what this man would do to her, but was surprised when he stood up and began walking away. His boots kicking up the sand that had creeped into the building. He turned around and raised his head enough, just barely to catch one of his turquoise eyes burning back at her with a fierce intensity. He nodded at her once and turned to continue leaving. 

If he was lucky, he would come across Overwatch soon, that is, if he was lucky. But lady luck isn't always in a good mood. Pérdido thinks he figured that out when gunfire erupted outside, screaming and shooting could be heard through the scrap walls of the plant. He holstered his pistols and made his way to the main garage door that opened up outside, awaiting for the hail of gunfire he was undoubtably about to see….


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, today’s chapter is a tad special. Reference to Fallout series this chapter. So lets get to it, shall we? Today’s Special: One of our boys, (Ramirez) meets the lovely Overwatch crew, and receives mixed reactions.

—Deep in the Heart of the Australian Outback Wasteland—

“You know, we could be sleeping right now.” Ramirez said suggestively. Angela grunted tiredly in response. “In our warm beds, surrounded by pillows and blankets…in the deep nothingness that is sleep, amiga.” Ramirez tried again. She smacked his arm lightly. He could only chuckle, she was too tired to even respond.

They had chosen to wake up early in order to meet Overwatch when they arrive, which just so happened to be 4a.m. their time. Angela shivered as another cold breeze swept through the sandy front yard of the church, awaiting for the arrival of her comrades from home. Soon enough a drop ship could be seen in the distance slowly making its way closer.

When it reached the sandy yard, it turned around and opened the rear hatch, slowly lowering to the ground. A tiny woman with spiky brown hair zipped out, and flew towards the blonde doctor, tackling her into a hug. “Angela love! You’re alright! I’m sorry! I should’ve-“ Angela said nothing, but pressed her finger to Lena’s lips, silencing her.

“It was not your fault, Lena. If anything, it was Talon. Now lets go inside, warm up, and we’ll update you on our situation.” Angela said, her exhaustion clear from her slow drawn out tone. Angela and Ramirez tailed by the Overwatch agents walked inside. 

The fire burned brightly in the middle of the workshop table, illuminating and warming the room. Many looked around the church, taking into the details, but focused their attention on Ramirez when his voice broke throughout the silence when the doors closed.

“As you might have noticed, our lovely host is currently in the hands of the raiders, and we need to bust him out.” He said theatrically, gesturing around the room. 

“I thought you said this kid was amazing Angela, and he goes and gets himself captured, by raiders no less. Why should we even waste out time on this kid?” Soldier 76 asked.

“Hey! Watch your mouth about him puto, he could put you in the ground!” Ramirez yelled, but calmed when Angela placed her hand on his shoulder. She took his place.

“He gave himself over willingly, the alternative was a mushroom cloud. I didn’t want that. Neither did the raiders, he traded himself for our freedom. The alternative to that would have been them turning me over to the UN or using me as a sex doll. He saved my life several times, and gave up the one thing he fought for the most, his freedom, just to keep us safe. So yes, we are saving him, or Ramirez and I will.” She said determined.

Eyes were wide as they stared at her, not only not used to her being vulgar, the threat the raiders made, but also with the perseverance and determination in which she said it. She activated the hologram of the base, aiming it so it hung in the middle of the table over the fire. It looked like the base was on fire, flames licking every building in the hologram. If only they knew the irony.

“We will be landing here, about a mile from the base. The Queen of the Junkers will be there, guns ready for us to help out. We send in Tracer, McCree, Hanzo, Winston, and myself to the main gates. Ramirez, your turn.” Angela stood back and he cracked his knuckles and smiled. “Alright, I want blue jay, big, pink and mean, omnic monk, cyborg ninja, and my man Lucio, good to see you again amigo.” Ramirez spoke pointing at Pharah, Zarya, Zenyetta, Genji, and Lucio.

He gestured to the rest. “The rest of you will split off into teams you’re comfortable with. We strike at dawn, so around three hours until we have enough light to attack, not to mention it gives the creepy crawlies of the wasteland time to go to bed. Last thing I need is a dune roamer to attack us.” He said, trying to act nonchalant about the last part.

“Creepy crawlies? Dune roamers? What are those, love?” Lena asked fearfully. Many of the younger’s eyes were on him, interested in what his response would be. But many of the older members, minus Reinhardt, looked as if he was about to spew the biggest pile of bullshit they’ve ever heard.

“Oh, think of tunnel worms, but fucking huge. Circular rotating jaws with razor sharp teeth, that shoot up around their prey and swallow them whole. I once saw one I call El Diablo, the devil himself is what it is. This thing is easily sixty feet tall. On its fall, it can crush tanks and take a hundred people with it on a dive.” He said trying to rile their imaginations. Hana looked nervous. “Is there anything else out here?” She asked timidly. 

“Deathclaws…” Roadhog said quietly.

Ramirez’s expression turned dark. He looked down and said nothing. Junkrat seemed personally the most affected, he seemed frozen, staring into the fire. Roadhog patted his back, seemingly mumbling soft words of comfort to his friend. Symmetra made her way over to Junkrat as well, patting his back softly, he could only examine his prosthetics. 

Ramirez rubbed the scars under his armor, sighing deeply. He didn’t like deathclaws, no one in the wasteland did. They were fast, big, strong, and just plain lethal. He had already deducted that the guy with the prosthetics lost his limbs to the beasts. He damn near lost his life were it not for Marco. He had killed the beast, and the four that had followed. 

Ramirez gritted his teeth slightly before standing and gathering everyone’s attention. “You all are heroes. My father told me the wasteland only gives birth to monsters. But I’ve seen Pérdido defeat real monsters, both human and not, in the name of humanity. If thats not what a hero does, I don’t know…” He said trailing off. He turned and abruptly left, swinging the large doors open and closing them behind him. 

Fareeha stood to follow the man, but stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her mother stood there, holding her in place, shaking her head softly. “That man is trouble, please Fareeha, leave him alone.” She said softly. “I’m afraid i’m inclined to disagree, Ana. He is far from trouble, and he could use a friend right now. I want him to feel welcome to Overwatch, and we can’t do that if we avoid him from the start. I don’t want to alienate him from day one.” Angela stated firmly. Ana face turned to shock when Fareeha shrugged her off and left the church to find Ramirez.

She walked in the dark, small lights on her armor lit up the area, kicking sand up. She could see the man smoking a cigar, in his sleeveless kevlar armor. ‘Isn’t he cold? Its below freezing out here.’ She thought to herself. 

“Hey amiga…long time no see. So where do you want to go for dinner?” He asked without turning around. His voice caused her to jump. He turned to face her, his eyes had bags under them. ‘And a new scar on his face, must have been from the explosion..’ She thought grimly.

“How did you survive?” She asked quietly. He chuckled in turn, causing her to frown. “Thats what you want to know? How I survived? Are you a workaholic?” He asked jokingly. “Answer me!” She barked at him. He leaned back and held his hands up. 

“God, you can really have a stick up your ass sometimes. I didn’t think I’d survive to be honest. I set off the bomb early cause I was surrounded…” He began to smile. “Mi hermano says it best, If I’m going to die, you’re all coming with me.” She growled louder than before. “So you just expected to die but didn’t? Thats so self destructive! Whats with you wastelanders having no regard for your own life?” She asked in shock and rage.

“We don’t care about the risks because we know our way of life in of itself is dangerous. We live a life where even in our sleep, we can’t rest. If you take your eyes off the horizon even for a moment here, you can risk dying at the hands of someone you’ll never know. I know we don’t live very long, but I’ve decided that if i’m dying young, its because I died doing something for the right reasons. I want to be the guy who died saving people, not the wastelander who disappeared into the haze of the wastes, never to be seen again because no one even knew his fucking name.” He huffed in anger.

“But a ‘noble’ sacrifice is not the way to do it. Just live a life doing the right thing, and you will leave your own foot print in the world, no matter how big, or how small. People will know you for someone who can do the right thing, only if thats the life you want to live, you don’t need to achieve it in death if it is just as obtainable in life.” She said with perseverance. 

He sighed and sat down on the ground. She watched the man, sitting on the sand puffing the cigar, he put his hands behind his head and fully laid down in the freezing sand.  
He smiled up at her and continued puffing his cigar.

“Uhhh, Ramirez, what are you doing?” She asked in confusion, an amused smirk plastered on her face. He looked past her and up into the stars. “Enjoying the stars, not a ton of nights you can see all the stars like this. Wanna watch with me amiga?” He asked sly.

She said nothing, just rolled her eye and sat down next to him and laid down as well, mimicking his position. She really looked at the sky and gasped softly, surprised to even see the faint green and purple of the milky way, along with the millions of tiny white dots that littered the sky. It was beautiful…

She turned her head and saw that Ramirez was staring at her. A blush flushed his cheeks, but he didn’t move his gaze. “I’m glad you’re safe Ramirez..” Fareeha said softly. He smiled at her brightly. “I’m glad I won our bet.” He whispered in return. She giggled lightly, but stopped when she noticed genuine joy on his face. He actually was happy, not just that lusty look she’d received from old members of Helix and people she passes on the street. She could only smile in return, before they both returned their gaze to the sky. 

—Inside—

“I want to meet the guy.” Torbjörn said with excitement as he examined the man’s arsenal. Looking at the various firearms mounted on his wall and placed in and around the steamer trunk and locker. He picked up the M60 and thoroughly examined the weapon.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this kid had a good arsenal.” He said with a smile. “Good is not the word I used.” Angela said disgruntled. “Personally, I think his weapon choice is barbaric, but he is more efficient with these weapons that most modern soldiers are with pulse weaponry.”

“Hey, what the hell is all over the gun? Are these notches?” He pulled the gun closer to his face gaining the other’s attention. He sat the gun down on the workshop table, closer to the fire for a better examination. McCree leaned in as well. They were tally marks, they were extremely tiny carvings of tally marks that covered, quite literally every square inch of the gun. From the barrel, to the stock, even the trigger. There must have been thousands of tallies all over the gun. “They’re on all his guns! His blades too!” Hana said in shock looking at one of his hatchets. 

Many agents began trading worried glances, except Angela, he had already explained it to her. Many heads turned to her, looking at her expectantly. “*sigh*, Let me guess, you want me to explain the notches on the guns.” She asked exasperated, not wanting to bring up more negative things. She could only sigh again when many of them nodded. She sat down on the pallet, facing everyone in the church.

“He told me that he keeps track of every kill. He told me.. ‘If I don’t remember them, who will?’ He felt sad that all the faces he grew to know, have disappeared. He wanted to honor all of those who had the wasteland finish them, even if it wasn't by name.” She finished sadly.

Many were surprised by the rather noble and sad act… A voice from behind them made them jump. “He was always a bleeding heart. I pray to Mother Mary that mi hermano makes it through.” He said standing next to Fareeha. He made his way forward and examined his brother in arm’s personal machine-gun. He pulled the charging handle and smiled when the heard the mechanics inside the gun react from his movement.

“I’m going to finish welding some more armor to my car, and if there are any engineers here, I wanna install an armored turret on my car, si? Wanna show those pendejos we don’t fuck around.” He turned and made his way back out, a content Torbjörn, excited at the new project, and still tired and slightly grumpy Satya followed him out. 

Ana shouldered her rifle and made her way for the stairs. “I’ll keep a look out. Jack, join me?” She asked, and with no hesitation, he stood up and followed her up the stairs. Reinhardt had taken his helmet off and could be seen glaring softly as Morrison followed Ana up the bell tower. The rest of the agents began conversing with one another.

Winston made his way over to Angela, sitting down across from her and smiling. “This fellow has all of our interests peaked. He sounds like quite the marvel.” He said with a brow raised. She nodded quickly. “He certainly knows how to survive better than most. Its amazing he didn’t die during his youth, given how troubled it was. I’m very glad to have met him.” She spoke honestly. 

Lena walked over and sat in Winston’s lap, and smiled up at her. “So love, how did he save you? You did fall nearly 60 feet, and that fall could kill most people if they landed wrong. So how did he do it?” She asked with a grin. Angela returned the grin and spoke slyly. “He caught me. Right out of the sky.” Lena whistled lowly. “What’s he look like?”

The question went through her mind and came up with one word that left her mouth before she could regulate it. “Hot.” She spoke quickly, then brought a hand up to cover her blushing face. Lena gasped and leaped out of her spot. “You have the hots for him, love?” She asked, excitement gripping her voice like a vice. 

Angela shushed her with haste, trying not to alert their comrades. “I-I might have some developing feelings for him.” She said with embarrassment. “Don’t say anything Lena, Winston, please. Until I figure this all out, please…” She pleaded with the brit, who instantly felt bad for making the doctor so nervous, both her and the gorilla nodded. “You never answered my earlier question, Angie. What’s he look like, besides hot?” She said wiggling her brows.

“W-Well, he’s tall, very tall. He comes up to I’d say easily six foot seven inches. He’s quite muscular, but still fast..agile. He’s incredibly strong, I’d say with a strength that rivals Reinhardt. He has strong jaw, slight beard, short brown hair, in a faux haircut.” She said picturing his face perfectly in her mind. 

She shuddered involuntarily, the blush on her face deepening. “L-Lots of scars, all over. Some on his face, kind of like Jack. Others on his chest and back. Many of them…I feel so bad for him, the pain it must have caused him.” She trailed off sadly.

Lena, now standing, shared a look with Winston. “You really miss ’em, don’tcha love?” She asked quietly. Angela could only nod softly in response. “Don’t worry Doc, we’ll get him back.” She said cheerfully. Angela managed to muster a smile in return.

“Oh! And guess what Angie? Emily lives at the Overwatch base now!” Lena exclaimed with glee. Angela clasped her hands together, a bright smile on her face. “That’s wonderful Lena! I haven’t seen Emily in years, how is she doing these days?” She asked the cheery brit, who’s attitude began to decline when asked the question. 

“Actually, not too good at the moment I'm afraid. She’s been down on her luck recently, being fired from her job at the agency she world for, lost her apartment, you know, the works. I couldn’t stand the thought of her living on the streets. So…I may have told her she could come live with us before I asked Winston..” She said nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

“As long as she keeps making me that peanut butter banana bread, she can stay as long as she wants.” He chuckled happily. Angela gave a motherly look of disapproval to the both of them. “Lena, Winston! I expected better of you! Lena, you should have asked for permission before telling Emily it was okay to come to Overwatch. And Winston, you should not be breaching your diet so much. You need your nutrition and peanut butter banana bread is not as nutritious as actual bananas.” She stated matter-of-factly. 

Both of them sighed and nodded slowly. “Good. Now we all need to get ready for today’s attack on the Raider base, do whatever preparations you need to.” She said sternly.

—Several Hours Later—

The Overwatch drop ship’s shadow cast against the jagged land, following slightly behind and to the left of Ramirez’s Mustang, leaving a trail of dust in its wake as it roared over the landscape. In his passenger seat, sat Lena, who had begged almost non-stop to ride with him when she saw that his mustang was, in fact, not a hover car.

“Wooooooo-Hoooooo! You must adore this, don't you love? All this freedom?” She asked in joy. He nodded, chuckling at the bright brit. “Let me tell you amiga, riding with the windows down, listening to good tunes, smoking a fat joint, and going 115 miles per hour. There is nothing on this planet that compares.” He said, reminiscing about all the times he had done just that.

The sun barely peaked past many of the wrecked titan omnics that littered the Dunes of the South. They had left nearly an hour prior and were getting close. Soon they would stop, and trek on foot the rest of the distance, as to avoid having the ship spotted. Satya offered to stay back and guard the ship, also being a temporary pilot should something go wrong. She would simply close the distance and pick them up.

“You seem pretty young to be in Overwatch, chica. How old are you anyways?” Ramirez asked curiously. “First off, its not polite to ask a lady’s age, second off, I’m 26 ya bloody tosser! I’m plenty old enough to be in Overwatch.” She stated with a huff crossing her arms. He messed with her hair, eliciting a startled ‘Hey!’ from her and smiled at her. “You remind me of my sister.” He said distantly.

“You have a sister?” She asked innocently. He shook his head, only managing to confuse her. “She passed away couple years back, disagreement with pops, threw her in the ring with Pérdido, so she didn't exactly last long. I was never mad at him though, it was my piece of shit dad that forced the fight. Was real hard on Ma..Pérdido, she and him got along great, she was like a younger sister to him, took him months to come back from that, he was in a dark place.” He trailed off, not wanting to breach the subject further, and Lena was smart enough to know when to stop asking questions.

Her thoughts were cut short when the radio buzzed to life. “Ramirez, Lena, are you there?” Angela’s voice rang through the comms. “Loud and clear, what’s up amiga?” Ramirez responded. “If these readings are correct, the raider base is having a mass evacuation. We just received an update from the Junker Queen, she told us to head to the base directly, that there is an already established LZ. Pull up next to the ship when we land. I- Stand by you two, we need to have all eyes on deck. Be careful.” With that, the radio had gone silent.

The latino man and tiny female brit shared a look. “What do you think cleared us an LZ?” Lena asked incredulously. He could only shrug as his eyes returned to the road. “Dunno amiga, could be mother wasteland coming to help her children in need, or maybe..just maybe, Pérdido wasn’t locked up as tight as he should’a been, eh?” Her eyes widened considerably. 

“You’re saying he can just break out of a raider base, just like that?” She asked skeptically. “No, I’m saying nothing good has ever come from someone underestimating him. He got caught voluntarily, but he sure as hell won’t make having him easy for them.” He said with a light chuckle, dying off as something in the distance caught his eye.

There, supposedly where the fortified raider base sat, a column of black smoke could be seen bellowing into the skies, visible for miles in all directions, despite the towering omnics that littered the landscape. “Please be safe amigo, I don’t want to bring you out of there in a body bag..” Ramirez whispered softly to himself, but Lena’s sharp hearing just managed to pick it up.

She often managed to forget simple things on the battlefield, sometimes simple things as who her opponents really are, as people. It finally occurred to her that it applies everywhere. Even these hardened wasters were just people trying to find a way to survive in a harsh environment. It gave her a broader sense of reality, but so many lingering questions. One thing was for certain, she needed to meet this Pérdido fellow..


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First encounter.

**Author’s Notes:** Well here it is, a chunk of Overwatch is going to get to see out boy Marco in action. Prepare for a final fight. _Today’s Special: Mother Wasteland vs Man_

_—_ Deep within the Dunes of The South—

“ _We need to get out of here! He’s bringing the whole place down!”_ The Talon soldier yelled as the last of the Talon ships were being boarded. 

“ _Not yet! Our agents haven’t returned!”_ Another soldier yelled. Soon a black cloud of mist appeared to their side and Reaper fell out of it, collapsing on the ground and panting. The soldiers picked him up and started dragging him forward. “ **Ugh-Ngh…WAIT…We need…we need to wait for Widowmaker..”** Reaper managed to rasp out. 

“ _Sir! This place is coming down, that fucking thing took out way too many of our men, we need to leave now!”_ They ignored his repeated objections and threw him aboard and started closing the hatch. For a moment, Reaper was quelled and Gabriel came out. “ _I’m sorry Amelie..Your sacrifice will not be in vain..”_ His whispered to himself, a single tear managing to escape his eye as he saw smoke and fire begin to bellow out of the factory he fought the masked man in earlier.

—Inside the Factory—

Widow cracked an eye open, her head pounded, her chest ached, probably broken ribs. She checked her surroundings, noticing the only difference from before she was knocked out, was that fire steadily ate its way across the factory, and the garage door across from her was open, and the surrounding metal was cover in blood and bullet holes. Distant gunfire along with the occasional explosion was heard.

She fell forward and started to crawl, trying to get out of the factory before she was eaten alive by the fire. She reached a set of steps that led down to the main factory floor. When she got her body over the edge, she lost her grip and rolled down the stairs.

When she came to a stop, she squinted her eyes shut, not used to the pain she was feeling. How the hell was she in pain, she wasn't suppose to…feel, was she? She tried to push herself up and found her leg and arm that had been shot ached horribly. She hissed at the pain and fell back to the floor. 

She watched with increasing anxiety as the fire made its way up the wall. The thick, murky, black smoke clouded her vision of most of the doors that led to the underground bunker, and most of the doors to the outside. She turned her head and reared back when she saw a figure staring down at her. 

It was the man from earlier, his brown, hooded, leather duster bellowed behind him, his mask and hood still concealing his identity. The spikes on his shoulders were coated in blood, much like the rest of him. She could see bullet holes in his armor and generally littering his form. He looked rather battered but said nothing as he appeared to be looking at her, despite the fact she couldn't see his eyes. He leaned down and picked her up bridal style.

She immediately tried to fight him, but all she could manage was a few weak punches to his chest and mask, which accomplished nothing but making him grunt, and her cutting her hand on his mask.

He stepped out of the building and started walking around the burning factory. He got around the factory, where the last of the Talon ships could be seen taking off, and set her down against the wall, well away from the burning portion of the facility.

Widow’s eyes widened as she saw her comrades leaving her behind. Soon the last one could be seen taking off. Her widened gaze shifted to the masked man, who was currently loading an assault rifle. 

His gaze shifted to her, lingering for a moment before his attention returned to his weaponry. He pulled the charging handle and slung the rifle on his back and sighed deeply. He looked at some of the raiders mounting their vehicles and departing from the facility he had set out to destroy. He had succeeded, minus one thing that ticked him the most, Pablo managed to escape.

“What is your plan with me?” The blue skinned woman brought him from his thoughts. She was studying him immensely, trying to figure out who he worked for, what faction he stood for. What she didn't know was that he didn't stand under a flag, only under himself and the people he cares about. 

“Dunno, you work with those people who wanted to buy me, so I’m still deciding between killing you, and questioning you. Leaning on killing you. Would be easier.” He said it so laxed, as if he were talking about the most casual thing in the world. His deep, distorted voice didn’t help ease her worries. She was surprised when she realized _this_ was the fighter that Talon ordered the raiders for, _so long ago.._

He looked at her and examined her for a moment. “Why are you blue? Your skin is pretty.” It sounded…innocent, not lustful like she had heard so many times. She raised a brow. This was the ultimate fighter they talked about it? He was truly an anomaly. He looked at her arm and slightly reached out his arm towards her. “May…May I look at your arm?” 

She didn't know why she offered him her arm, he could easily inject her arm with something that could knock her out or plain kill her, he already said he was considering it. But yet… he gently grasped her arm, simply looked at her tattoo and skin. He ran his finger down the length of her arm. She could feel the calloused digit trace her skin, making her shiver slightly. What the fuck is wrong with her? Why does she keep…feeling? It sucks…whatever it is…it sucks. 

He let go of her arm and she slowly retracted it back to her, still eyeing him wearily. “Thank you, I like your tattoo. What’s it mean?” He asked softly, sitting on the ground, cross legged in front of her. She was about to answer when a set of coughs racked her frame.

He stood up quickly and walked over to a dead raider and pulled a canteen from the corpse, opening it an taking a look inside. He capped it and clipped it to his belt, then proceeded to repeat the same process till he found another canteen he wanted.

He walked over and handed her an uncapped canteen. “Water..” He said softly, and with careful sips, she quenched the dryness in her throat. “Merci..” He took it from her and capped it, placing it in the sand, he uncapped the other and kneeled next to her, sighing deeply. “There is alcohol in this one, I’ll pour it on your wounds and bandage it.” She frowned and scooted away from him, not wanting him to address her wounds. He watched her scoot away, and stood up, capping the canteen.

She watched him with curiosity and he walked over to a corpse and saw what he was grabbing. She fell to her stomach and tried desperately to crawl away, only resulting in her digging into the sand. She flipped over when he approached, ready to kick him. Before she could land the kick, he caught her foot and threw it aside, kneeling next to her. He spun her over on to her stomach and pulled her arms behind her back. 

She could hear the clicks of the handcuffs tightening around her wrists, and then her ankles, fully restraining her. She showed her teeth in an angry glare, mad that he would restrain her in her state. He was about to uncap the canteen when a drop ship could be seen approaching. Only the front was visible, making the ship’s owner a mystery. “Stay here, I’ll be back.” He shouldered his rifle and left her there, lying in the sand. She grit her teeth and sat up, leaning her back against the factory wall.

He said nothing, choosing to dead sprint to the building across the street and climbing the side of it with…agility? Her eyes widened when she realized he wasn't using a grapple or propulsion system to climb the way, but by grabbing anything he could and flinging himself up to the next point. He repeated the cycle flawlessly until he was at the top. 

He tried to see who the drop ship belonged to, but was unable to see the emblem on it. ‘ _When in doubt, its an enemy_.’ He thought carefully. He took aim at the front pane of glass on the drop ship, prepared to kill the pilot and prevent its landing. Until a noise caught his hearing. 

He looked out over the wastes and could see Ramirez’s Mustang flying down the road towards the burning complex, riding in the drop ship’s shadow. He smiled, realizing it must be Overwatch. He turned and leaped off the building he had climbed shortly before. Pérdido slammed into the sand, forcing Widow to turn her head as sand pelted her. When she opened her eyes, he was walking towards her, his towering frame lurking ever closer.

He stopped at her feet and kneeled on a single knee. “I’m going to take you to people who will heal you. Since you obviously don’t want me to do it. Are you familiar with Overwatch?” Her reaction told him everything he needed to know, when she tried to break the cuffs furiously.

“I should have known you work with Overwatch.” She spat in anger. Although she couldn’t see his eyes, his voice was enough to correct her. “ **I stand under no flag, I am my own man, with my own goals.** ” He growled angrily. Her glare shifted to that of confusion. He doesn't work for Overwatch, but he’s handing her over to them? Who the fuck is this guy? She could only stare at him, more and more questions begging to surface, one by one.

But it appeared that her questions would have to wait. He picked her up bridal style and began walking with her towards where a few vehicles pooled by the gates, they noticed many of them sporting the Junker’s classic banditmobiles style. He saw the Overwatch drop ship turn around and slowly come to the ground, Ramirez’s Mustang pulling up along side where the unloading area was.

He watched as Ramirez stepped out of his vehicle, alongside a small woman with spiky brown hair. Soon many Overwatch agents could be seen exiting, his eyes landed on Angela. He watched her approach the Queen of the Junkers to talk about finding him. He decided to lend them a hand.

“ ** _Pérdido! ¡Estúpido hijo de puta! Voy a pegar mi bota en el culo, saldrá de su boca!”_** Ramirez yelled as his eyes landed on him. He chuckled softly, something Widowmaker noticed. ‘ _That man reminds me of Sombra_ …’ Widow thought to herself. He halted when he noticed the blue skinned woman in his arm, then whistled lowly. 

“Man…where do you keep finding all these crazy chicas, amigo? Seriously?” He said in admiration. Pérdido said nothing bringing the woman forward. All eyes were on him now, as he set Widow down on the ground, her back propped up by Ramirez’s Mustang. He pulled out the water canteen and offered, she looked like she wanted to refuse, not liking the idea of being assisted with drinking while people watched her. She seemed almost..embarrassed.

He stood and turned facing everyone, and in two words, all eyes turned away, except Ramirez and Angela. “ ** _Look…Away.”_** His deep distorted voice sent a wave of shivers through the group. He kneeled back in front of her. When he looked at her, she seemed to have a grateful look on her face. He offered the canteen again and she took careful sips as he held it to her mouth.

Angela watched the spectacle in awe, no one had ever apprehended Widow successfully, much less managed to capture her. He continued to give her small sips of the water, as to not spill it over her. When she was done, she nodded curtly. Before speaking softly. “ _Merci.”_

He nodded back at her before standing up and turning to face everyone, who’s eyes were back on him. He said nothing choosing to step forward. Ramirez asked a question that was on the tip of everyone’s tongue, but none had the courage to ask. 

“Pérdido…Did..Did you do all _this?”_

He gestured to the burning facility, as soon as he did, the main factory collapsed and a fireball raged into the sky, sending a message for all to see for miles. Raiders were crippled. The black smoke poured off in droves from the raging fire of the burning facilities. Bodies could be seen on the ground, at least three or four hundred outside alone. Many torn to shreds, some burned to a crisp, many littered with bullet holes.

He shrugged slightly. “Talon did their damage, but I was the one who finished them off. Plus I started the fire.” Pérdido rasped from behind his mask. His breathing was deepening. Many could hear he was having a hard time breathing. The adrenaline was wearing off and Pérdido’s wounds were beginning to catch up to him. 

He fell to his knees, and began coughing harshly from behind his mask. He flipped off his hood, revealing his short faux hair. He tried reaching for the mask, but ended up falling into the sand. “ ** _MARCO_**!” Ramirez, the Junker Queen, and Ramirez were at his side in an instant. Angela tried to used her caduceus staff, but felt her heart drop, when he kept coughing, and couldn't move. “Its been too long..” She said with drawing horror.

Ramirez unlatched his mask and flipped him over, many gasping upon sight of his face. The inside of his mask and the entire area that the masked cover were covered in blood. He coughed up more blood as it dripped from his chin onto his armor. 

“ **I NEED HIM ON THE SHIP NOW! GET EVERY MED KIT WE GOT!”** Angela roared and everyone sprung into action. Lena and Lucio grabbed Widow and led her onto the ship. Ramirez and Reinhardt grabbed Marco and lifted him carefully into the drop ship, setting him down in the middle aisle, everyone but Ramirez and Angela sitting down. “Queen, meet us at Pérdido’s place!” Ramirez yelled, to which she rep lied with a thumbs up as she ran to her vehicles.

“ **Get us out of here Satya! Go Go GO!”** Angela yelled the order to their pilot who remotely closed the hatch and and took off. Ramirez removed Marco’s duster and the new and old armor he adorned. When he pulled off his shirt, many gasped at the sight of the man. He had many bullet holes in his chest and arms. Stabs, burns, holes and cuts of unknown origin. Many turned their attention to Ramirez who broke the silence, except those who couldn't turn their eyes away from the injured behemoth. 

“Dios Mio…What did those fucking _animals do to you? I-I’ll kill them…I’ll kill them all.”_ He grit his teeth, fighting tears at he looked at his injured brother in arms. He grasped Macro’s hand while Angela quickly prepared all the necessities to begin surgery. She looked through all the packs and started to panic. “NO! Why don’t we have any sedatives!” Ramirez began digging through the packs and sighed. 

He leaned over Marco and slapped him, making him come to slightly. Ramirez grab be his face making it focus on him, Marco’s eyes slightly widen to decipher who is in front of him. “Hermano, we gotta do a surgery, we can’t put you under, we don’t have the medicine. Some one give me a belt! This shit’s gonna hurt, brother.” Ramirez stood up and ordered. 

McCree stood up and unbuckled his, and handed it over to Ramirez who folded the belt and placed it in Marco’s mouth. “Bite down, amigo. Angela, start.” She started using the cutting instrument to open one of the bullet injuries, to assist in getting the bullet out. 

“ ** _UUURGHH!! MMMPHH!”_** Marco groaned in pain from behind the belt. This process was repeated for every single bullet injury, as well as the cleaning and dressing of the many burns on his body. By this point, silent tears trailed down his cheeks, the salt of them burning the injuries he had on his neck and cheeks. 

As soon as the last wound that was visible without taking off his briefs, was patched, Ramirez pulled the now slobbery, bloody, torn belt from his mouth and handed it back to McCree with an apologetic look. “I’ll buy you a new belt amigo, thanks again.” McCree seemed to understand completely. “It ain’t nothin’. Go help your friend.” He said offering a slight smile, in which he returned it slightly.

Ramirez turned and approached Marco’s still form. Sitting on the ground next to him. He could see Marco’s eyes, still slightly open, still awake. His eyes widened slightly, before he smirked at his best friend. 

“You know amigo, I have to hand it to you. Breaking out of a heavily fortified raider base, apparently taking down an internationally known assassin, and staying awake during surgery while we pull chunky bits out of you. You never cease to amaze me amigo.” Ramirez’s smile was full of pride. Many agents went quiet to hear them converse. “What did they do to you? These wounds..they look different from anything you have. They look like a mix between a brand and electrocution wound. Care to explain?” 

Angela placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to stop the latino man from questioning the recovering Marco. “I don’t think now is the time for those questions.” She suggested softly, but was startled when Marco put a hand up, offering a weak smile. “Its…*cough* Its alright. I’m sure you have questions too Angela..” He said weakly. She had to admit, he wasn't wrong. 

He looked so pitiful looking at him like this, not even three hours ago, he was the armored man in the hooded duster, adorned with spikes and blood. “Ca- *clears throat* Can someone- urgh..help me sit up?” He asked softly. Ramirez took his duffle bag and used it to help prop him up. 

“The metal brace I was wearing when I came out was the restraint they had on me, they had some type of electrode hooked up to it and shocked me. They branded me as well. Different stuff, I was…dazed half the time. Tried to focus on escape to distract me.” He stated softly. 

“How did you break out?” Ramirez asked, still perplexed about that. “I activated the electrodes by yanking on my restraints, I did it until the chains by the electrodes were red hot, then I broke the restraints and killed the torturers. I went through the base, found the armory. Killed anything in my way. Placed a grenade by their fueling station, blew the place to high hell, and left.” He acted like he was reciting any average day. Ramirez whistled lowly, before his eyes widened. “Did my dad escape?” He asked, hoping to hear he wouldn't have.

When Marco nodded, Ramirez let out a frustrated groan. “One day padre..one day.” He said angrily. Angela offered the next question. “How did you capture her?” She asked, gesturing to a silent Widowmaker, looking at them. Marco looked down, apparently in deep thought.

“Some guy in a skull mask and she attacked me. I shot them both, he escaped. She didn’t, tried to stay behind and take me out. I knocked her out, finished off the base. Came back and took her out to you guys.

“You survived an attack from both the Reaper and Widow, and managed to capture her. Well I’ll be, you weren't kidding about this kid Angie.” McCree said with mounting respect. Many others seemed to agree. This was definitely a first impression they would not forget. Marco watched everyone wearily, not used to having so many eyes on him at once. 

“If..If you don’t mind, I think I’ll rest till we get back to the church.” He offered softly. Angela took his hand within hers, “I’ll be here when you wake, _libeling. Sweet dreams.”_ He offered a weak smile and closed his eyes, falling asleep. Lena watched the whole ordeal with amazement. 

This man was everything Angie said he was and more. This guy was a fucking legend. She watched Angela, stare at the sleeping man, and she smiled as Angela slowly reached forward and began running her fingers through his short, brown, dirty hair. 

Lena wondered what was in store for the young man, she also wondered why he intrigued her so much. Maybe it was all the hype around his arrival and rather dramatic entrance earlier. She remembered the conversation of doubt that went around the ship before they landed.

—Earlier—

_“So who thinks this kid’s gonna be a complete joke?” Soldier 76 asked breaking the pregnant silence. Many eyes trailed to him._

_“What makes you say that, luv?” Lena asked. He grunted and responded with; “He was dumb enough to get caught by stupid raiders. They’re brainless idiots.” He said condescendingly._

_“Like hell they are, their not stupid, just fucking evil.” Jamison said working on one of his mines._

_“I’ve fought raiders in the past, they’re animals.” 76 stated trying to hold his point._

_“Yeah, but that was before Pablo took control. I knew that kid looked familiar.” Roadhog said in defense of Junkrat._

_“Who, that Ramirez kid?” McCree asked curiously, to which Roadhog nodded._

_“Pablo’s kid. Must be the kid who broke out the top slave, so that would confirm my theories about Pérdido.” He said musing to himself._

_“To answer Jack’s earlier question, I think he will be much more powerful than we anticipate.” Genji said stoically. Some nodded, some seemed to be in doubt, but all agreed one thing, seeing is believing._

_—Present—_

And God damn if they didn't believe now. This kid would be talk of Overwatch for a while. As was most new people who are recruited in to the organization. Lena watched as Marco tensed in his sleep, and began sweating. She smiled sadly when Angela leaned forward and began softly singing a swedish lullaby she recognized. 

Angela had sung the same song to her on nights she would come to med-bed teary eyed from a nightmare. It seemed to have a similar affect on Marco, who seemed to slowly relax again. He rolled over, his head landing in Angela’s lap. She giggled softly, not seeming to mind at all. 

He mumbled something softly and Angela seemed to freeze, before her face flushed red and she started grinning widely. Lena wondered what he said, and figured she’d ask Angela later. She was pulled from her thoughts when Ramirez’s voice came on the over speaker.

_“Thank you for flying Ramirez Party Airlines, please don't forget your free joint and brazilian massage on the way out.- Hey, I’m the captain now, hands offsy! Ahhh!!”_ Ramirez’s yell was enough to make Marco wake up, cracking open his eyes, looking up at Angela. 

“Angela?”

“Yeah?”

“Was that Ramirez?”

“Yes it was.”

“Tell him to come here.”

“*sigh* Don’t hurt him too badly, I’ll get my staff.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A formal introduction is made.

**—Deep in the Heart of the Australian Wasteland—**

—7:30 p.m—

A European Rabbit bounced across the sandy plain. It had been nearly a full day since it had food, at this rate, it would be lucky to survive the rest of the day. It trotted further along until a strange whirring in the distance caught his large ear’s preceptive hearing. He trotted along, following the distant noise until a tall structure in the distance caught it’s eye. 

It continued forward, it’s tiny fuzzy feet kicking up a bit of sand with each step forward. It stopped at a dried up shrub, sniffing lightly for anything that could be edible. It sneezed when its nose touched a branch and kept forward. 

Before long, it reached the tall white structure and began rounding it. It found a big metal thing was making the noise, two actually. Both of those metal things opened and human came out. One in particular caught its interest, one of the humans with blue skin. But ultimately decided it was too dangerous and decided to trot around in the open, opting to go around the structure and look for food.

“You know amigo, you can be really fucking stubborn sometimes.” Ramirez grunted in annoyance. Many eyes widened when Marco exited the ship unassisted, opting to put back on all his armor, including rebreather, minus the hood. “There’s work to be done, and I can’t afford to let my injuries to slow us down.” He said sternly. 

“I thought you were a survivalist, don't they do everything to like…not die? Maybe you should rest when we settle in kiddo. If you don’t mind, we’ll all bunk here tonight and keep an eye out for anymore raiders.” The Queen offered as she climbed out of her car. Marco sighed and nodded. “That’s fine, I’ll figure out the next steps tonight.” He rumbled, running a hand through his hair. 

Ramirez walked next to Marco as they approached the doors to his home. Marco pushed them open with one massive push. Stepping inside his church, he took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of being back home. He stepped forward and stopped, twirling around, temporarily stunning everyone. 

“Who likes tea?” He asked curtly. Lena’s hand flew up. “Oh! Me! Me! I do!” She hopped up and down, like a child trying to answer a question in class. He chuckled softly before continuing. “So I know she likes tea, anyone else? A few hands rose, he counted them quickly before turning on his heel and walking inside. Ramirez gestured for them to follow, and one by one, they entered.

The last to enter was Lucio, Widow, and Lena, opting to place Widow on the couch. Marco was at the stove fixing several pots of tea. Many found stools, crates, or pallets to sit on, a few of the larger agents chose to stand. Once the preparations were completed, he walked to the center of the room, where all agents could see him clearly. 

“I want to formally introduce myself to all of you, and to apologize for having to see me in such a state earlier.” Angela, who sat on a stool at the workshop table on the opposite side of the couch, piped in. “You need not apologize for anything. It was miracle that you managed to break out, I- we’re just glad you’re okay.” She said with compassion.

He unfastened his rebreather and tossed it to Ramirez, who caught the mask without looking, placing it inside the cabinet he was rooting through, before pulling out his and Marco’s bag of goodies and tucked them under his arm. He kicked the cabinet shut and walked over to an empty spot on the floor. He sat and began setting up two joints. 

“Anyways, My name is Marco. I don’t know what people’s fascination with this point of subject, and I'm sick of people asking, but I don’t have a last name for any of you who were curious.” Lena slowly lowered her hand back to her lap. “If you have any questions, I’ll try answer as best as I can.” He said slowly, accepting one of the joints Ramirez had rolled and placed the tip between his lips, bringing a shredded zippo out of his pocket. “Fuck…Now I need to find a new one.”

“Here amigo.” Ramirez tossed his zippo in their air to which Marco caught and flipped it open, lighting his joint, puffing softly. He handed the lighter back and looked up, slightly dazed when he realized nearly everyone had a question. He sat himself down with a grunt, his chest still aching.

He pointed randomly, his finger landing on Genji. “Our friends here, Junkrat and Roadhog are fellow wastelanders, and mentioned that there was once a top slave fighting in something called the ‘Trials’, along with the help of the of the son of the infamous Pablo _Ramirez._ I wanted to know if you are the same duo.” He asked without hesitation, but realized something was wrong when Marco seemed frozen, Ramirez was starring worriedly at Marco.

“Hey, no offense my cyborg amigo, but cut any questions involving…that.” He said carefully. To which quickly, Marco took several deep breaths, leveling himself back out. The silence was so thick, it could be cut by a knife. 

“Its f-fine…Yes. Yes, we are the same duo. I fought in the ‘Trails’ since it began, and I was the one who ended it.” He said, finally completely calm once again. Genji nodded in understanding. “Thank you for answering my question.” 

He looked around again and pointed at Fareeha. “How did you not succumb to your injuries earlier, in fact, how are you even still standing? You went through surgery and probably only got an hour nap on the ship, you should be in a borderline coma right now!” She asked in disbelief. 

He looked at one of the stitched wounds on his hands. “ ** _Pain, exhaustion, weakness, are all a state of mind._** ” He recited from a distant memory. He looked up at her. “Does that answer your question?” He asked calmly. She looked like she wanted to rebuttal, but chose to reply with; “Yes..you did, thank you.”

He puffed a tad harder on the joint and ashed it beside him, looking back up and pointed at Soldier 76. “What in the hell are you puffing on kid?” He asked wearily. Marco raised a brow and looked at Angela. She sighed and nodded softly. He looked back at Soldier 76 and grinned with the lit joint still in his mouth. “Cannabis, good sir.” 

Ana scoffed at his response. “Great, just what Overwatch needs, two stoners. Good find Angela, you found us two drugged out twenty something year olds.” In one swift motion he dropped the joint on the ground, stepping forward, his foot stomping on what little was left of the joint. 

“Keep her out of this. I found her, if anything, considering she fell into my yard. As for the use of my medication and its benefits, is none of your concern. It never has, and never will affect my ability to work and survive. So if you have a problem with it, **speak up.”** It was directed at everyone, but not a word was spoken, not even by Ana. Only because of Fareeha, who placed her hand on her mother’s shoulder, and shook her head, dissuading her from speaking further. 

“Good..Next….You.” He pointed at Reinhardt. “How do you survive out here? No food, no vater, anything? Vhat do you even eat here?” He question was an odd, but genuine one. Marco unholstered his 1911 and twirled it like a six shooter. “I usually eat whatever could die by a single shot from this, rabbits, feral dogs, whatever is small and doesn't take up a lot of space. I have to hunt at least twice a week. As for water, there actually is a well outside, its a small pump system, but it makes for clean water and a good arm workout.” He said calmly holstering his 1911. Reinhardt nodded, satisfied with the answer.

Marco scanned the room and noticed only one hand remained. He pointed at the brunette girl in the blue cyber suit with the pink face makeup. “How many people have you killed?” She asked. “Hana! That is not an appro-“ Angela started to scold the young girl, until Marco’s voice cut her off. 

“ _Three Thousand, Eight Hundred Sixty Five…_ ”

The room went silent, all eyes trained on him. His kill count outranked them all. Most knew their kill count from the beginning of their career, and this wiped their most decorated soldier out of the water. What they didn’t know was that he had beaten a personal record today, most kills in a single day. A little over two hundred people died by his hand today, and he remembered every face. 

Ramirez started pushing Marco towards the door, offering no resistance and following quietly. He spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear him. “Alright, this questionnaire has been great amigos, but I think its time we call it a day. We’re gonna step out, follow us and I’ll kill you myself.” He said sternly as he flung the doors open and pushing Marco out, and slamming the door behind them. The resounding slam knocked a bunch of dust from the rafters making it drift into the light before falling to the floor.

“ _Mein_ **Gott**! What was _that_?! I thought I said make him feel welcomed, not like a fucking criminal!” Angela yelled. Many reared back, not used to hearing the patient doctor curse. Many looked to her as a mother, and like any mother, when mom isn't happy, no one is.

“Hana, what in the world made you ask him that?” She looked down in embarrassment. “I was just curious. He seemed like he knew what he was doing when he basically turned a rescue mission into a simple evac.” She tried to defend her question as best she could. Until the voice of the Junker Queen gathering their attention. 

“Listen girl, don’t get me wrong, you’re all soldiers, you all fight and see death on a regular basis. Okay-, no, you know what? There’s a good analogy for this. You are death’s co-worker, you see ’em on the week days, with breaks in between. Marco is death’s roommate, knows him better than anyone, spends, days, even weeks at a time hanging out with him. You have no idea what wastelanders, especially roamers have to deal with day to day. For him, its not something he wants to do, its something he feels he has to do. I was the same way before I started the Junkers.” The Queen finished, also obviously disliking the question the young south Korean had asked.

“And Ana! It’s marijuana, not heroin, he’s not some doped up junkie. You’ve seen what he’s capable of and yet you still have reason to doubt him, why?” Angela asked turning her attention to the former captain. 

“Mako and Jamison came from a faction, they are weak without leadership.” This elicited an angry outcry from Jamison, but was shushed when Mako placed a hand of his friend’s shoulder. “But he is a wasteland wanderer, and I know those types. They bow to no one, they do what they want, when they want, with no regard for anyone else. That man will die before he joins Overwatch.”

Before anyone could reply, Ramirez’s voice could be heard calling loudly through the weak walls. “ _Marco! You better fucking not, you just got out of surgery, your still injured!”_ The doors flung inward, and Pérdido marched in, duster bellowing behind him, hood up. He approached the cabinet and opened it, pulling out and fastening his mask, right as Ramirez ran in panting. “How *pant* do you *pant* manage to *pant* still out run me?” He said using the door for support.

Pérdido said nothing as he started loading his M60. The Queen walked over and leaned into his view. “Hey, what’s going on out there?” She asked. He pulled the charging handle and made way for the door. “Deathclaws, four or five of them. All of you stay inside, I’ll take care of this.” He said calmly. Ramirez stood up and made the no-go sign with his hands. “Thats a negatory amigo. You’re still hurt, plus we have the numbers and hardware to take care of it.” 

“Grab my fifty cal. and watch me from the tower Ramirez.” This order seemed to completely change his attitude. “You got it amigo! Can I used the incendiary rounds?” Pérdido shrugged. “Go nuts.” He squealed and closed and locked the doors behind him. Angela was fuming. “Did you just send him out to fight those things by himself!?”

“Hahaha! Don’t worry amiga, he’s got hardware for moments like this.” He pulled a plank up from the wooden floor and pulled out an enormous sniper rifle. He pulled the bolt back and smiled. He reached back into the hole and pulled out and ammo can, using his foot to put the plank back into place. He turned and made his way for the tower.

They could hear his steps as he climbed the tower, and the creak of the metal springs on the bipod. Many crowded around the front windows to try and see what was going on. Before long, a steady stream of gunfire could heard. What Angela has come to realize was Marco’s M60. They could see distant flashes among the sandy plains and large reptilian heads with horns pop up now and again. 

*** _POW*_**

**_*POW*_ **

**_*POW*_ **

Ramirez was firing rounds now, the incendiaries leaving trails as they arced to their targets, colliding with the heads and backs of three of the beasts. Two of them collapsed, one seemed to get back up, considering the string of spanish curses that came from upstairs. 

**_*POW*_ **

**_*POW*_ **

**_*POW*_ **

**_“FUCK, MARCO!”_ **

In a flash, Ramirez was down the stairs and flying across the room, desperately trying to unlock the door, he growled when the lock wouldn’t cooperate. “Grrrr…fuck, forgive me amigo.” The latino man sent a powerful kick to the seam in-between the two doors, and they flew outwards and off their hinges, kicking up a cloud of dust upon contact with the ground.

He took off into the desert, many of the agents following behind, except Angela who was foot and foot with Ramirez. They all sprinted closer to the gunfire, listening as they reached the peak of each dune getting closer, seeing better and better glimpses of the fight going on in the sandy pits of the Outback. 

Soon, about a dune away from the fight, the gunfire stopped completely, the only sound was the wind roaring against the vegetation and dunes of sand. When they finally reached the peak of the dune, looking down on the fight scene, they saw Pérdido shouldering his smoking M60, the barrel glowing a soft red. Surrounding him were large reptilian creatures, wrapped in scaly skin, with long jagged horns upon their heads. Their claws were easily as long as his M60, looking razor sharp.

They watched mouths ajar as he climbed the hill and stood at the peak with them, glancing at the dead creatures. “Ugh…Damn vermin.” He turned to face his home. “Who the fuck kicked down my door?” He asked quietly. Ramirez slowly raised his hand, an embarrassed look on his face, evident by a small blush. “Dude…the _fuck_?” Chuckles could be heard all around them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today’s Special: Until Next Time, Old Friend

**—Deep in the Heart of the Australian Outback Wasteland—**

Ramirez tossed Marco another bag piled up near the door, they were almost done packing. Ramirez went to the Bazaar and ‘stocked up’ earlier that morning. He had almost loaded the last of his gear, and were going to link Marco’s motorcycle and Ramirez’s Mustang to the ship soon. 

Marco looked around for his fifty cal., but growled quietly when he couldn’t find it. The Junker Queen tapped his shoulder and he turned to see her holding a large and rather heavy looking rifle case. He smiled graciously before taking it and placing it on top of the last of his stuff. 

He stopped and turned to face her. “I never thanked you, for helping me. Even after everything I did, you still helped me.” She smiled at him sadly. “Well you’re just so gosh darn cute, I couldn’t help it. But seriously, those animals had made you suffer enough, I couldn’t stand by and watch shit like that go down. You’ve done a lot to help people in the past, your tales have gone far, Marco. Now, get on board, and next time you come back, tell me all about the world outside the wasteland.” She said, smiling sadly at him. 

“Why not come with me?” He asked quickly. She stared at him, then burst into laughter. “Hahahaha..O-Oh my god, that was funny. Wait…You’re serious…Marco, I can’t, my people need me.” He was quiet for a moment, what she assumed trying to find a good rebuttal. “Don’t you have a second command that runs things in your absence?” He asked.

“Yes, but he doesn’t know how to stay in charge for an extended period of time.” She pushed back. “Send him orders, you have your own towers.” He shot back. She started panicking, not wanting to confront the subject. He sighed figuring she was worried about the same thing he was. “Life outside the wasteland, at least according to Angela is almost the same as its always been. I don’t know what that means, but I assume you do.” She seemed frozen, before chuckling darkly. “Leave it to the outside world to leave us in the dark for nearly fifteen years.” 

“Marco…*sigh*…I’ll come temporarily, and only if its alright with Overwatch.” Marco’s eyes lit up with child-like wonderment. He dead sprinted off, leaving a nothing but a cloud of dust in his wake. He sprinted around the front of the ship where some of the senior members were talking, but stopped when Marco stopped in front of the group, carrying his cloud of dust with him, causing Reinhardt to sneeze. 

“Sorry, sir. Angela, I wanted to ask permission if the Junker Queen could come with us. She said she would only come if you all gave her the green light. I believe she could be of assistance, she has leadership skills, tons of combat time, and an excellent mechanic.” He said quickly, pointing every pro of bringing her. 

She seemed stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered. “I-I need to talk to the other members first. I’ll let you know in a moment, libeling.” He nodded curtly and walked away. “We aren’t really going to let her come are we?” Jack decided to ask before Marco was out of hearing distance. But he simply ignored the man and continued off.

“Well, you have to remember Jack, he is correct with everything he said, despite her unique ‘charm’. We also have desperately needed a mechanic. If we can accept Ramirez, Marco, Jamison, and Mako, we can accept her. Does anyone have any objections? Ultimately, its still up Winston.” She said gesturing to him. 

He looked down in deep thought, before sighing and looking up. “I don’t see any reason why not.” He said calmly. Jack groaned and Ana rolled her eyes, but everyone else seemed to be okay with the idea. Soon the group met with all the others at the back of the ship. 

“Junker Queen, we’d like to have you with us, but first, we need your name. Your real name.” Winston said sternly, addressing her. She sighed and huffed. “Is it necessary?” She asked, not wanting to give up her name. Winston nodded and she moaned in distaste, looking at Marco. “The things I do for you… My real name is [Keahi](http://www.behindthename.com/name/keahi) [Hokulani](http://www.behindthename.com/name/hokulani) **.** But can you please call me Queen, or shit, call me Q for all I care. I hate my real name.” She said insecurely. 

“I like the name…Keahi…It fits you.” Marco said. Ramirez then nodded. “Yeah, actually, I see it too.” Many of the other’s nodded as well. She covered her face, hiding her increasing blush. “Stoooooop…No it doesn’t, its a stupid Native American/Hawaiian name.” Ramirez grinned and threw an arm around her pulling her in against his side. “Nah amiga, you know what? I think i’ll call ya Keahi from now on.” She groaned louder, making some of the Overwatch agents laugh. 

“So does this mean we need to go to your city to get your belongings, Queen?” Winston asked respectfully. To which she shook her head. “Nah, lets hit the road, I can have my stuff sent to me.” She said quickly. Everyone began boarding, and Ramirez gestured for Marco to follow him back inside the church. 

“Let’s go boys, we need to get going.” Angela said, gathering their attention. Ramirez stepped forward on Marco’s behalf. “Mind if Marco and I have a moment to say a little farewell to the house, or a until next time, if you will?” He asked, to which she nodded and turned to go find her seat. 

They each walked in and closed the poorly repaired doors from yesterday’s kick from Ramirez. They each took a seat on the couch, and Ramirez pulled two joints from his leather jacket and handed one to Marco. They counted together. ‘ _1…2…3…light.’_ The flames appeared in sync, lighting the tips of the joints before they put out their lights and put them away, each puffing on the joint on their own pace.

“Gotta say, gonna miss this place, lot of good memories. Paul, Marcey, James…Kaitlyn…but we have a new start with Overwatch, maybe it will last a few weeks, maybe longer, but all I know, is I’ll be back here one day.” Marco said reminiscing to himself. Ramirez nodded slowly. “Cheers hermano, to memories, and to the future.” They clasped each other’s forearms in a brotherly handshake. 

Ramirez stood and smiled, “You ready to go?” He smiled back. “Born ready.” They walked to the doors and Marco went first, pulling the doors open wide, stepping out into the desert. Ramirez came out and stood by his side as he closed and locked the door.

He turned and started walking towards the ship, Ramirez on his right. They both walked up the ramp into the ship, stopping for a brief moment to look at the church. The ramp closed and the two men sat at the empty seats towards the ramp. Marco pulled his mask from his belt and fastened it. And like that, Marco was gone, and Pérdido was in his place. Ready to go to a new land, on a new adventure, in a new chapter of his life. He flipped up his hood and closed his eyes, letting the whirring of the engines lull him to sleep. 

**—Several Hours into the flight, Somewhere Over the Mediterranean Sea—**

It wasn’t the ship shaking that truly woke him. It was Angela’s terrified scream that made his eyes shoot open. He leaped out of his seat and saw that many agents were on the floor, even Ramirez. He scrambled to help his best friend from the floor. “What the _fuck_ is going on?” 

“TALON!” Lena yelled from the front of the ship. Many of the agents sat back down, strapping in for the crazy stunts Lena was about to do. Pérdido leaped forward and grabbed his M60 from the floor. He saw the hatch that lead to the roof of the ship. He took a running leap and grabbed onto the support bar, and opened the hatch, the roaring wind catching everyone’s attention and small debris began flying around the personnel deck, eliciting surprised cries from everyone. 

He ignored them and crawled out, seeing many ridges in the ship where he could hold on while she took the stunts as far as she could. He kicked the hatch closed and leaped forward towards the middle of the hull of the ship. He held on tightly with his right hand, and shouldered his M60 in his other hand, and turned his head to see his enemies. 

Three fighters were catching up quickly, one pulled up along the left side, enough for the pilot to see him clearly, before he stuck out the M60 and unleashed a torrent of bullets into the ships cock-pit, effectively shredding the pilot, sending the fighter jet into a nose dive, black smoke bellowing out of the cock pit.

Lena must have seen the other fighter’s closing in on their right, and chose to pull up doing full throttle, the metal creaking under his grip from the opposing G-forces. When they were completely upside down and Marco could see into their cockpits, he fired down at them, managing to destroy one of the fighter’s wings, sending it hurtling into the Mediterranean Sea as a ball of fire and smoke.

Lean finished the loop and took back in the direction of the base they were headed to. The fighter finished it’s loop and unleashed a torrent of bullets, peppering the hull in singular strafes. Marco would dig his feet into other grooves and lean down to avoid being hit. He went back to his original position when he heard the engines kicked back up into high gear.

He held on as tightly as possible when she started barrel rolling and turning right, all while pulling up. He could hear the muffled screams through the metal and over the wind, he almost wanted to laugh if he wasn't the one riding on the outside. When the ship leveled out, the fighter struggled to keep up, giving Marco a narrow opening. He aimed carefully at the ships ordnance, and gave a steady tug of the trigger, tracing in his mind , where his bullets would land.

He watched the explosion engulf the ship, sending it down and out of view. He let go of his spot and let the wind pick him up and send him back a few feet before he re-gripped the hatch lever, pulling it open, he fell in, closing it behind him. 

When he hit the metal floor, he looked up to see his teammates staring at him silently. He looked around, noticing even Ramirez was looking at him in shock. “Amigo…THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!” He looked up to see that there were thick panes of glass on the ceiling around the hatch, making his antics upstairs visible to all inside. All the agents cheered, except Angela, who was still staring at him. He locked gazes with her, smiling at her. Her blank expression turned to that of unbridled fury. She stomped over to him and in one swift motion silenced the cabin.

* ** _SMACK_** *

He held his cheek, were it not for the unusually tall height, and terrifying spikes, mask, and hood, he could almost be acquainted to a child that had just been smacked for the first time. “Wha-What did I do?” He asked fearfully. She said nothing for a moment, clenching her hands ‘till her knuckles were white. 

“You could have _died!_ That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen! How you did not end up letting go and plummeting several hundred meters, I do not know, but you are never to do _anything_ that dangerous ever again!” She railed him as she felt tears of frustration building in her eyes. She fought for control over her emotions and ultimately won, sniffing lightly. 

“You just got out of the raider’s base, you have nothing to prove to any of us. Sometimes you have to have faith that other people can save you.” She said quietly. “Last time I did that, I got turned into a slave. I trust Ramirez, and myself alone to save ourselves, and by extension, anyone we care about from harms way, or I will die trying.” He rebutted firmly.

She was silent, unable to return a reply. She took another step forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. She leaned on her tip toes and whispered into his ear. “If you don’t trust the others to save you, at least trust me _libeling_ …” He shivered slightly, but maintained composure. “I will try.” He said softly.

“In the words of one of my favorite movie characters of all time. ‘Do or do not, there is no try.’ ” She said with a smirk. He tilted his head in confusion, not exactly knowing what a movie was. But he nodded none the less. “Dually noted.” 

“Can you two _pájaros del amor_ sit down, we are about to land.” Ramirez said exasperated. The two broke apart, Angela blushing lightly, and Marco’s face hidden by his mask. He sat down next to Ramirez and played with the sights on his M60. Ramirez watched him carefully until he noticed that Marco had sighted it for closer range engagements. “Amigo, what are you doing? I told you, not everywhere has crazy shit that can kill you, it took me going to LA to see that. I promise you, we’ll be fine here.” He said trying to ease his friend’s worry. 

Pérdido did not respond, only pulling the charging handle to clear a jammed shell he hadn’t noticed. After a bit of turbulence, during Pérdido tensed every time, they landed within the hanger and dropped the hatch. He was the first to stand and exit the ship, his head sweeping the hanger in an attempt to locate an enemy. After finding none, he settled on shouldering his M60.

The agents surprised shouts caught his attention, his heart rate spiked, adrenaline filling his veins. He spun around and raised his M60, but was surprised when a tiny brown blur smacked into his shin. He looked down and set his M60 to his side, kneeling down to pick up the tiny creature. A European Rabbit sat in his palms, it looked young, like it had a fully belly, and had wanted to find a cool place to sleep. The rabbit looked terrified, but calmed slightly when he scratched the creature’s chin. 

It curled back into a ball and fell asleep in his hands. “AWWWWWWWW!” Hana, who was behind, Lena and Lucio escorting Widow, flew past them and started to pet the tiny creature. “Are you gonna keep him? If the answer is no, can I have him? You’re not gonna cook him are you?” She asked worriedly.

He chuckled and shook his head. “If what Angela says is true and you really do have a relatively steady supply of food, I won’t have to. Plus he’s pretty cute. But I’m not a bunny person, more of a dog person. So you know what, he’s all yours. I can teach you how to take care of him. You get to name ’em too.” He said, smiling at her. She was caught off guard at how nice he was being considering yesterday, but it certainly went to show the man’s patience.

He handed her the bundle of fur as if it were a child, and she cradled the rabbit in her arms as such. She bowed her head at him. “Thanks Marco…I also wanted to say sorry about that question yesterday.” She said meekly. He smiled. “I told you ask me questions and I would answer them as best as I could, I just happen to know the answer to yours. Just be careful who you ask that in the future. Other’s might not be as forgiving.” He said soft tone. She nodded quickly and walked off with her new pet. 

He stood and shouldered his machine-gun, going to help the other’s unhook Ramirez’s Mustang from the ship. Widow watched the spectacle from her spot between the time traveler and the rebel. They quietly talk to each other while she scanned her surroundings. there was no personnel, no crew, no anyone but the agents. She realized it really was just them against the world. Just a rag tag team of the world’s finest coming together to take down threats. Too bad Talon was going to find out she was alive. How? She…admittedly does not know, yet! She will find a way, eventually. Right now, she will observe, and try to ignore her throbbing headache. 

Ramirez got into his car, it roared to life, and he pulled it forward, out from underneath the drop ship. He pulled around and rolled the window down leaning over his empty passenger seat to talk to them. “Ooh la la, two beautiful chicas, amigo, better get while the gettin’s good.” He said directed at Lucio, who laughed loudly, along with Lena. Even Am- Widow managed to smirk.

He stepped out of his car and made his way around, sitting on the hood of his car. The other agents gathered around, and Winston cleared his throat. “Since we are all tired, tours and so on can wait until tomorrow, for now, lets discuss something important, sleeping arrangements.” 

He looked at Ramirez, “You have two options Ramirez, stay with someone of your choice, or stay here in the hanger.” Winston spoke quickly, as to get back to his workshop and begin his tinkering once again. “Who will have me?” He asked and looked around. “What about you blue bird?” He asked pointing at Fareeha with a wink. Ana stepped in front of her with her arms crossed. “Absolutely not.” She said firmly. 

“No disrespect señora, but ultimately it is up to your _hija_. She’s old enough to make her own decisions, even if that decision doesn’t include me, I’ll respect that.” He said defending his and her honor. She smiled at him and nodded. “You can stay with me, but you get the couch.” He nodded. “Noted, thank you amiga, sincerely.” She smiled at him in turn. Ana’s frown only deepened. “ _Habibti_ , we will talk about this later.” She said with a concealed fury. 

“Okay, now, Junker Queen. Whe-“ Winston began, but was cut off by her answer. “Hanger.” She said without looking up from her battle axe. “Oh-mmkay, alright, Marco. I already have someone who’s agreed to house you.” He spoke directing his attention to Marco, who had been focused with rapt attention on living assignments.

“Who am I staying with sir?” Marco asked curtly, to which Winston frowned slightly, before giving a sad smile. “We are not some paramilitary organization anymore Marco, just call me Winston. You’re family here, and family call each other by name, not by titles.” He said smiling at one of their newest members.

He nodded slowly in return. “Yes si-, Winston.” Winston’s smile brightened, and even though the other’s could not see it, he smiled in return. “You will be staying with Lena and her girlfriend.” When re-faced with facts she had forgotten an hour after being told, she immediately didn’t know how to feel about the idea now.

He walked up and stood next to her, making her crane her neck up to see his fiery turquoise eyes flashing down at her from underneath his hood. “Do you have any objections? I don’t want to impede.” He said softly.

Weather it was to avoid offending him, or maybe she really didn’t care, but she shook her head regardless. He smiled from behind his mask. “Thank you, Lena. You have my sincerest gratitude.” He spoke, placing his hand on the center of his chest. She nodded at him smiling. “Anytime love!” She replied cheerily, the last of her hesitation fading.

Winston gathered everyone’s attention for a final break. “Alright everyone, settle in, we meet in the conference room tomorrow at 6, bright and early. Have a good night.” Many agents stayed for a moment to say goodnight to each other. Before Marco had the chance to say goodnight to Angela, Lena grabbed his hand and started pulling the behemoth towards to dorms.

“Wait, Lena, please!” He pleaded. She stopped tugging, looking at him with a pouty look on her face. “But I want you to meet my girlfriend!” She said trying to guilt the man to hurry along. “C-Can I please say goodnight to Angela and Ramirez?” She huffed, but realized it was pretty selfish of her to drag him away like that. “Sorry about that love, go ahead, I’ll be by the doors over there.” She said pointing at a set of doors she had been pulling him towards.

“Thank you Lena. I will try to be swift.” He turned and quickly strode back towards the now dispersing agents. He caught sight of Fareeha and Angela talking, while Ramirez sat on a crate nearby. He walked up to Ramirez, clasping his hand in a handshake that they pulled back and fist bumped. He leaned against the crate Ramirez was sitting on. 

“You excited to spend the night with Fareeha?” Marco asked quietly. He shook his head slightly. “I know her type amigo, if I try anything, my nuts will be on her mantle. Plus I’m not stupid, her _madre_ _really_ doesn’t like me, or you for that matter. I’m not about to piss off mother bear. I know about the famous Captain Ana Amari, I’d be on a boat back to Australia in a day flat. I’m gonna be polite, quiet, and I’m gonna sleep on the couch like a good boy, because despite what you think, not everyone is built like a super soldier.” He whispered fiercely, but his nervousness finally surfacing.

He patted his shoulder and stood back up to approach Angela as Fareeha made their way over to the duo. He nodded respectfully to the woman, who returned it, offering a smile. He walked up to Angela who met him halfway, wrapping her arms as high as she could around his back, pulling him into a hug. He returned the hug fully, pulling the woman against him.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, taking her light vanilla scent in. He shivered slightly, something she noticed. “Thank you for making this possible for me…” He said quietly. She smiled up at him. “Always, and we still have unfinished business from when Ramirez interrupted us, so I expect you at my dorm tomorrow at dusk.” She said quickly, trying to fight the growing blush. Before he could respond, she stood on her tip toes, and kissed his cheek lightly before turning on her heel and leaving.

What he didn’t see was the thumbs up given to Angela by both Ramirez and Fareeha. She simply put her head down further and walked away faster. Marco stood there, incredibly confused, looking all around before watching her retreating form. “Goodnight! I..guess.” He shrugged and turned away, walking towards where Lena impatiently tapped her foot. 

“All good love? Lets go!” She grabbed his hand pulled him towards her preferred destination. Though the halls were windy and long, Marco had little trouble remembering where everything he passed was. Soon she stopped in front of a door with the brass number plates reading ‘323’ in black print. She turned and looked at him. “Stay right here love, I’ll call you in.”

Lena pushed the door open. “Oooh Emily! We have a new guest!” Lena called out. Emily came into the living room and and embraced her girlfriend. “Its good to see you babe, who’s staying with us?” The red head asked curiously. Lena looked at the cracked door. “Come on in love.” 

The door pushed open, and Marco ducked his head to get inside the room. Emily’s mouth dropped open upon sight of the armored man. He waved at her, and stood up straight. “Hello ma’am.” The red head paused. “Uh…Lena, Can I speak to you alone in the room?” Lena gulped and nodded. She looked at Marco and mouthed the words ‘ _Help me!_ ’.

Marco chuckled softly, not sure why her girlfriend pulled her away like that. 

He looked around the cozy apartment. He had never seen anything so nice before, so clean so… _homey_ … He could only stare in wonder at certain appliances and furniture he had never seen before, some he had heard of from other slaves. Even the lamps were a mystery to him. 

He wanted to fiddle with it, but knew it was not his to fiddle with. So he stayed in his spot by the door, should the red head come out and demand he leave. He knew people saw him as a monster, they didn’t have to know him to fear him, his appearance did that enough. He glanced at the giant metal spikes that stood tall through his leather duster. 

‘ ** _I don’t know if you know this Marco, but you are a pet, bred to kill. So…kill for me…pet.’_**

He grit and clenched his teeth, using his remaining willpower to focus on Angela. He felt his heart rate slowly decline. He opened his eyes and refocused on the room. He knew what he needed to do to make this go easily.

He flipped off his hood and carefully reached past the spikes to undo his mask. He pulled it free from his face, and ran his hand through his now scruffy beard. He unfastened the metal restraint, puling it, along with his duster off. He set it next to the door. He straightened out his dirt and clay stained white t-shirt. He looked down at his black combat pants and boots, noticing they weren't too dirty. He would clean up any mess he creates before he leaves. 

Before long, the door into the bedroom opened and the two woman came out. Both eyes bulged at the transformed man. Emily and Lena felt their face flush at the man. “Of course he can stay here! Sweetie, just bring your stuff to the closet over here and get settled on the couch.” Emily said quickly. Lena tilted her head in confusion. “But I thoug-“ Emily quickly wrapped a hand around Lena’s mouth. “Shush babe. Just…shush..” Emily said quietly.

Lena nodded and she let her go. Marco was putting his armored duster in the closet as instructed, and closed the door once complete. He stopped and looked at them. “Is there a place where I can wash myself?” He asked timidly.

Lena nodded. “Of course luv, you can use the guest bathroom’s shower.” She frowned when he tilted his head. “Something wrong, love?” She asked him, his confusion getting the better of her curious nature. “I don’t know what a shower is.” He stated honestly. Lena’s eyes widened slightly, but she soon broke into a huge smile. “That fine, love! I’ll show you what a shower is and how to work it.”

The next few minuets were spent in the guest bathroom, having Lena and Marco stand next to the shower while Lena showed him how to properly run it. “Thank you Lena. I’ll clean up now.” She passed him and went into the living room, closing the door behind her. 

Lena walked up to Emily, who sat on the couch, and sat next to her. “Why did you change your mind?” Lena asked. Emily deadpanned. “Did you see him or are you blind, he’s built like a demigod, I have _no_ problem with him staying here. Plus like you said, he does seem polite enough. I already trust him more than Jamison, and I’ve only known him a few minuets.”

Lena huffed. “I never saw what you see in guys. They are certainly not gentle like you so eloquently put it in the past.” Emily could only smile. “Know that thing you like me to do to your neck and chest?” She asked playfully. Lena blushed deeply and nodded. Emily leaned forward and whispered. “ _A guy taught me that one._ ” Lena leaned back and her blush deepened. 

The sound of a door opening caught their attention. Marco, clad in a white tank top and sweat pants walked over to an open seat and sat down. “I want to apologize for not formally introducing myself earlier. But people see the armor and assume the worst.” He said honestly.

Emily felt a twinge of guilt in her chest. She hadn’t meant to jump to any conclusions about him, I guess Mako should have taught her that. She smiled at him. “I’m sorry if I made you feel unwelcome. I will admit, your appearance was startling, but that was no way for me to act, so I do apologize.” She spoke regretfully. 

He shook his head. “Its quite alright, but in any case, my name is Marco, its a pleasure to meet you.” He stuck his massive hand out, wrapping it around hers and shaking her hand. She smiled when he stood and yawned. “If you ladies don’t mind. I think I’m gonna call it a night.” Exhaustion clear in his voice.

The ladies bid him a goodnight and retreated to their room. He stared at the ceiling laying on the couch. He wondered what his time here would bring him. What he didn’t know is that life was going to make a big change for him very soon.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wastelanders get a check up from our lovely doctor.

**_—_ Watchpoint Gibraltar, Spain—**

Marco was the first in the conference room, having only gotten an hour of restful sleep. He had spent the rest of the night wandering the watchpoint, learning the locations and stopping for a bite to eat and a quick workout. He was clad in his boots and combat pants along with a white tank top, his only weapons on him were his combat knife and his 1911 strapped to his side. He was currently browsing an old file box he had found in the conference room, and was reading up on the older agents and their tales.

He had already seen most of them, and he was currently looking up his roommate’s history with Overwatch, saving in his opinion, the best for last; Angela. He stayed away from personal things and stuck to public records to avoid invading privacy. But the public records often allowed him to draw his own conclusion, and in almost all cases, accurate ones. 

Lena’s tale had been a short, sad, but exciting tale. The young brit managed to become the tester pilot for one of Overwatch’s experimental planes called the slipstream. Its intended design was meant to tear open a hole in time and appear further ahead in its location, considered the fastest in existence. Although the young brit’s dream became a nightmare when it malfunctioned, causing her and the ship to disappear. 

She resurfaced several years later as the poster girl for Overwatch, it states that the time of her disappearance is still classified. He sighed, realizing this was probably the only gap in her tale, whatever happened to her in the time she disappeared. He closed the box when he heard the five o’clock bell ding from the terminal, he supposed he would check later. 

Marco stood and stretched his joints, sighing in relief when they popped. He looked around and walked over to the table. The material looked like it was made out of some polymer and metal weave. The base alone must be very structurally sound. He looked up when the door opening caught his attention, making him stand up straight. 

There at the the door, the cybernetic man, by the name Genji stood stood tall and proud. He walked forward in a purposeful stride. “Good morning, Marco. How are you today?” Marco smiled at the metal man. “Good morning to you as well, I am well Genji, thank you for asking. How about you?” He asked softly, shaking the cybernetic man’s hand. 

“I’m well also. How are you healing?” Marco raised his shirt and showed a series of stitched wounds littering his toned abs. He lowered his shirt and sighed. “Fast enough I guess. They ache, but all my wounds usually ache until its fully healed. Its alright though, it shouldn’t hinder my ability to work.”

Genji crossed his arms, adopting a more authoritative stance. “You need your rest if you are to help us, we want you in your prime.” He said with authority. Marco nodded softly. “Yes sir.”

Genji, uncrossed his arms and despite not seeing his face, his tone had become considerably softer. “Its not that we doubt you can’t fight in this state either. Your skirmish with those ‘Deathclaws’ proved us all wrong. But we just want you healthy when you fight with us, same rule applies to anyone else, we have to all look after each other.” He said confidently.

“Dually Noted, thank you Genji, you have given me much to consider.” Marco said genuinely intrigued by what Genji had advised to him. Soon, more agents poured in, many looking groggy, and the rather stern looking agents had cups of coffee in their hands. Soon he could see Lena come in, when her eyes landed on him, she blinked to his side, chipper as always. ‘ _Must be a morning person.’_

“Where were you last night, love? I came out of the room for my midnight snack, and you were gone? Have you been up all night?” She asked curiously. He nodded slowly. She raised her brows. “With how much you’ve been injured recently, don’t you think its probably best for you to get as much rest as possible?” She asked, giving him a stern look with her hands on her hips. He looked at her, debating weather or not to tell her about the night terrors, deciding the location wasn’t appropriate, but not seeing any logical reason not to tell her. 

She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to re-focus him. “Yoo-hoo? Lena to Marco, do you read, love?” He looked back at the cheery brit. “I’ll explain at a later time, this is not the appropriate place to discuss such matters.” She huffed in response, but seemed to accept it as an answer. 

Winston was the last to enter, standing tall at the podium, surrounded by agents new and old. He cleared his throat grabbing everyone’s attention. “First and foremost, I’d like to give a warm welcome to our three newest additions to our team. Keahi [Hokulani](http://www.behindthename.com/name/hokulani), or preferably by her choice, Queen. Abel Ramirez, but he prefers to go by his last name. And last, but not least, Marco, or _Pérdido_ as he prefers on the field. They each need medical evaluations and a run through of the test court, to see where their abilities lie. The only one I’m fairly certain does not need this is Marco, but for the sake of being fair, you will participate as well. We still have several hours till sunrise, so I want all engineers in Hanger Bay 7 by 900 hours. I want all other agents to train and prepare for the coming weeks. You three-” Gesturing to the three wastelanders. “-will follow Doctor Ziegler to the medical ward. You’ll have your exams and will be instructed further from there.” He finished off.

He readdressed everyone. “Get to it everyone, if these three have questions, help them out.” Soon eyes shifted to Ramirez who held his hand up. “Yes Ramirez?” Winston asked the young man. “Is there a place in town I can get some good weed?” He asked with a grin. Marco sighed and face palmed, while Angela and Keahi rolled their eyes simultaneously. 

“Yeah, I have a guy in town, I’ll hook you up.” All eyes shot to the young South Korean superstar. Hana raised a brow. “What? You’re all surprised? Being a superstar can be stressful…” She said lowering her head. Marco walked up to Hana and patted her back. “Its nothing to be ashamed of. Ramirez and I have our reasons too, but Ramirez, that was not an appropriate question for now.” Marco scolded his friend as he returned to his seat, who simply shrugged and smirked. “He said ask questions if we had’em, I had one amigo. Thanks Bunny Rabbit.” He winked at Hana with a charming smile, making her blush lightly.

What he didn’t see was how both Fareeha and Lucio clenched their fists at the sight, something Marco had picked up on almost instantly. He traded a glance with Angela, and by the looks of it, she noticed as well. They both returned their gazes to Winston as he cleared his throat. “Alright everyone, you have your orders, I’ll be in Hanger Bay 7 if I’m needed.”

With that, many of the Agents left the room, Fareeha stopping to stare at Ramirez for a moment, a look of slight hurt on her face, which quickly turned to anger as she turned and left the room. Ramirez, Keahi, and Marco stood side by side as Angela approached them. They all looked at her in confusion when she started giggling. “What’s so funny doc?” Keahi asked. 

“You’re all *giggles* standing in order of height, and Marco looks like a bar on the graph that shoots up through the top.” Ramirez and Keahi started chuckling as well, while Marco stood there, still rather perplexed. He shrugged it off as they began to make way for the medical ward. 

“You each will have to have separate examinations, we will start by going to oldest to youngest. Keahi being 36, that means your up first. We will have to do standard medical procedures, taking wight, height, check heart rate, and draw some blood.” As soon as Marco heard the words, he froze, as did Ramirez who instantly spun on his heel to face Marco.

“Not like _that_ amigo! She won’t do _that_ to you, this will all be _painless_.” Marco seemed to calm down. When Ramirez turned to face the two women, they stared in confusion. He sighed and looked down at the ground, ashamed. 

“Drawing blood was considered a punishment, they slit your throat enough for you to pass out from blood loss, then they’d sow you back up and put you back in the ring to fight. Happened to him a few times.” He said pointing to Marco who looked sternly off into nothing, he then kept marching forward past the mortified women, only stopping when Angela grabbed his hand, making him stop. 

“I would _never_ do something so cruel to you _libeling_. If I _ever_ hurt you, its because I’m trying to save you.” He stared into her baby blue eyes, tightening the grip in return and started to crack a small smile. “ _I believe you.”_ He said softly. She smiled and let go, taking the lead once again. Soon enough, the medical ward was reached, and Marco and Ramirez sat next to each other in the lobby while Angela and Keahi went into the med bay. 

Ramirez sighed and leaned forward, rubbing his face in exhaustion. “Something wrong, man?” Marco asked, looking at his friend. Ramirez looked up with his bloodshot eyes and chuckled. “Yeah man…something is. Fareeha and I had a fight last night.” He glared at Marco as he started to chuckle. “Already bickering like a couple.” Marco said smiling, to which Ramirez shook his head. “Nah man, she’s so strict and by the book, it hurts. I don’t see why she doesn’t just lighten up.” He said perplexed.

“Actually, I think she would do you as much good as you would for her.” Marco said confidently. Ramirez raised a brow. “What’re you on, amigo? I want some. Seriously though, why the hell would you think that?” He asked confusion only rising.

“Well think about it, you are a free spirit, untamable, rough around the edges. She’s a straight edge sword, ridged and unmoving, order and justice is her cause. You could teach her a thing or two about learning to relax, and she could straighten your messy ass up.” He ended with a laugh. “Oh hardy fuckin’ har har. Very _funny amigo_ , I should nominate you for the cupid award as best matchmaker ever. Dude, we got into a pretty heated fight last night. She was still pissed at me for what I did at the end of our mission. She fucking railed me for like, three hours. Finally, I snapped and yelled back, we bitched back and fourth, then I left her room, and came back when she was asleep. Didn’t want to deal with it.” He sighed and groaned. “God, no pussy is worth this amount of trouble.” 

Marco laughed heartily. “Maybe you actually like her, unlike the other women you’ve been with. With the exception of-“ Ramirez held his hand up and cut off Marco. “Please don’t bring her up, _amigo_. I’ve moved on, and so has she.” Ramirez and Marco looked at the door as Keahi walked into the lobby and smiled at the two men. “Apparently the Queen of the Junker’s is in prime health. Your up Ramirez, she’s waiting in there for you.” Keahi said as she sat on Marco’s other side. 

Ramirez slapped the armrests and pushed himself up with a huff. “Alright amiga, see you two in a few.” He turned and pushed open the doors to the ward. Keahi tapped his shoulder, shifting his attention to her. “Are you okay, Marco? I didn’t see you after you left your cell. How did you get out, there must have been at least three hundred men at the base, and well over a hundred more with the Talon goons?” She asked incredulously. He simply shrugged in reply. “I fought my way out.” She shivered slightly. “I only saw fifty or so of the raiders escape. You took out all the others?” He shook his head to the question. “No, Talon did a good bit, as well as when the factory collapsed.” She could only stare. “Did you do that too? Set the place to blow?” He nodded.

“Marco, I don’t know what side of the family you get your genetics from, but if my theory is correct, your father must have been some kind of war lord, or some crazy badass warrior.” Marco scoffed. “I never knew my father, my mom never told me about him. She would change the subject every time. Honestly, if she tried that hard to hide him from me, its obvious she didn’t want me to meet him. I’m okay with that.” He said leaning back in his seat. She shifted to face him better. “You never wanted to meet him, not even once?” She asked giving him a curious look.

“Well, of course I have, but it would be impossible now. My mom was the only one who knew who he was, and she’s dead now. So trying to acquire that information would be a fool’s errand.” He said sternly, knowing full well at what she was pushing at. 

“Why not look for him?” She asked him, not understanding his lack of motivation to find his father. ‘ _There it is.’_ He thought to himself. “Look, I’ve tried, alright? I wanted to years ago, but for all I know, he could be dead too. Either way, I don’t care anymore. I don’t hate him, I just don’t know him, and to be frank, I don't think I want to know.” He said more fiercely. She widened her eyes and chuckled. 

She smiled at him and leaned back in her seat, mimicking him. “You know, that’s fine, i’m just saying if you ever need some closure, come to me, I know people.” She smirked to herself. “I don’t know about you, but I think being here at Overwatch is gonna be a lotta fun.” Keahi said a bit giddy. 

Marco looked down at her and smiled. “I do too. I was so scared to leave the wasteland, but Angela helped me see that there is so much more to the world than just nuclear fire and death. I’m eager to explore the world, seeing at its best and worst tends to put things in prospective, something that will let me see the world for what it really is.” He said trailing off, he turned to see her staring at him with a slight gleam in her eye. “That was…deep.” She spoke quietly. He simply nodded and shot back a quiet but deep; “ _Indeed._ ” 

After a few more minuets of silence, Ramirez danced out of the doors, spinning around with a dramatic leap. “ _I’M IN PEFECT HEATH AMIGOS!~”_ He sung in a sing song voice with no music. He pointed at Marco at the end of his leap, shouting unceremoniously. “You’re up tiger!”

Both of them stared at Ramirez’s dramatic dance. “Is he always like this?” Keahi asked in a deadpan voice. Marco sighed and stood up. “Sadly, yes.” He ignored Ramirez’s theatrical look of offense. 

Marco pushed open the doors and stepped forward into the ward. He spotted Angela typing at one of those electronic consoles. He walked up beside her, not going unnoticed she look up at him and smiled. He looked over her shoulder at the screen. “What’cha up to?” He asked with nonchalance. 

“I’m currently entering Ramirez and Keahi’s profile into our database as currently active Overwatch Agents. I’ll do the same for you when I’m done.” She said as she continued her typing. He raised his brow at this. “Actually Angela…” She stopped typing upon hearing him say her name. “Yes Marco?” 

“Look, I don’t want you to think I don’t want to be here at Overwatch, much less that I’m ashamed of this place. For me though, could you keep my name out of the records?” She raised a brow. “Why? You’re records will only be held by Winston and I, there is no danger of your identity being discovered.” He shook his head. “Trust me when I say I don’t trust databases to be as sturdy as a piece of paper in a vault. Can we do a single hard copy, and you hold on to it? I trust you, its not that I don’t trust Winston, but I trust you more.” She could tell he was being sincere, once again placating himself as he handed even more trust to her.

She nodded at him, placing a hand on top of his. “Very well, libeling, very well. We will do a single hard copy.” She stood up, his hand still gently grasped by hers, pulling him towards the exam room. She led him into the exam room and closed the door behind them. She walked over to the counter and pulled up a clipboard and began writing down things he couldn’t see. She then turn to him and pointed to the medical table. “Sit there for me, Marco.”

He obliged the request and sat where she pointed, kicking his feet lightly, and looking in awe at all the medical equipment. She watched him as his eyes explored the room, smiling at the wonderment he expressed towards new things. She approached him and placed her fingers on his wrist, checking for his heart rate. She discovered that his heart rate was alarmingly high. She took the stethoscope that rested around her neck and placed the hearing ends in her ears and approached him. “Could you remove your shirt?” She managed to ask without blushing. 

He nodded and pulled his shirt off, revealing his toned abs and barrel chest. She placed the stethoscope on his chest over his heart, and listened to the symphony that was his heart beating harshly within his chest. “Marco, did you know your heart rate is roughly 177bpm. That’s the level of someone running a marathon, and you’re just sitting here. This just confirmed my earlier theories about you Marco, but I’d like to do one last test…just to be sure.” She stood a good distance away and stood in a semi draw stance, reaching for her belt hidden behind her bellowing lab coat. 

Weather by instinct, or fear, or just plain self preservation, he instantly reached for his gun, forgetting it wasn't present with him, he lowered his hand and head, looking down in shame. She walked up to him, placing a hand on the side of his face, guiding him to look at her. “Marco, you are showing signs of a disorder called PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” His eyes widened with fear. “Is it fatal?” He asked, associating disorder with something entirely different. 

She tilted her head to the side slightly, confused, but amused by his question. “N-No, its a mental disorder, where one can find themselves having night terrors, anxiety attacks, aggressive reactions to anything hostile, loud noises, etc. It can be very debilitating if left unchecked. I think you should see me for therapy sessions. We would discuss various events in your life, things that have caused you pain, and maybe finding a type of closure is in order.” He nodded slowly at her words, hoping that the process wouldn’t leave him worse off than he was now. 

  
She walked over to the cabinet and opened it, pulling out a tube and vile. “I need to take a blood sample now, this will be completely painless. I tiny needle will go in your arm, and take a small amount of blood. Let me get you set up.” She used alcohol wipes to disinfect his arm, she lined the needle up with the vein, and gently pushed it in. Within seconds, the procedure was done. She put a bandaid with antibiotic ointment on the hole in his arm. He smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up. She returned the smile and turned to get the rest of her equipment.

Within several minuets, all of the procedures were done, and Angela was writing all of Marco’s information down on a piece of paper. He sat quietly in his chair, looking around, seemingly still entranced by every little item he had never seen or heard of before. Her voice pulled his attention back to her. “So, are you still coming to my dorm tonight?” She asked casually, as she wrote in neat cursive on the paper. He nodded timidly, nervous at the idea of being with Angela in her private room. 

He considered the church to be his home, it was the first place where he had closed his eyes and felt safe in his life. To him, it was honor to see someones personal quarters, a sign of trust. He smiled at her. “What would you like to do tonight?” He asked innocently enough.

She stopped writing, looking off in thought before smiling at him. “You need to see a movie. I haven’t decided which one, but I guess we’ll figure it out tonight. Alright Marco, your paper work is complete, so I’ll stash it away safely. Be careful during your training, you are still injured, and have a slight chance of ripping your stitches.” She smiled and stood up, ready to lead him out. 

He stood up and pulled Angela into an embrace, he felt her tense form slowly relax before her arms snaked around his waist behind him, slowly melting in his arms. He looked down at her, giving her a rare cheeky grin, before placing a light kiss on her lips. The action cause her stomach to flip and blood rushed to her cheeks. He kept his grin and turned on his heel, striding out of the office with confidence and joy in his step.

She stood frozen watching the young man leave. Her heart pounded in her ears, her legs still trembled lightly, her knee twitching as proof. She sighed and leaned back against her desk. “ _Mein Gott,_ That man is _mine_ or I’ll be _damned_.” She spoke to herself with a shaky breath.

Marco’s shit eating grin remained plastered to his face as he walked outside into the lobby, Ramirez and Keahi standing as he exited the ward. “Ready to go, amigo?” Marco smiled at his friend, giving him a curt nod before replying; “Born ready.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon's POV, get a little insight as to why Talon's so invested in our boy Marco.

**—Somewhere off the coast of Cuba—**

“If it weren’t for your extreme incompetence and that _pest_ you call a son, Subject 001 would never have escaped. Talon invested almost all of our assets into this project, and now one of our best Agents is dead and Subject 001 is now in the hands of the enemy. This has set us back months, years even. You have one more chance Pablo, do not disappoint me, or you know what will happen.” The man did not wait for a reply before he ended the transmission, he spun his chair to face his two remaining specialty agents.

“I’ll be honest, if I know Subject 001, Widow is buried somewhere under the factory back in the Outback, but this nagging part of my brain has a theory. Sombra, I want you to set up surveillance around Watchpoint Gibraltar, leave no space unchecked and no camera unhacked. Don’t bother with their database. The only way to access it is to manually hack it, Reaper tried and failed. With more agents, this would only be more difficult. Remote hacking won’t be an option here, their facility’s AI ‘Athena’ protects the subsystems and databanks. You’ll have a hotel room in the nearby city and will station yourself there until instructed further.” He nodded at Sombra, a sign of dismissal, which she took quietly, although sporting a small smirk. 

He then turned to Reaper. “You on the other hand my friend, are going to doing a scavenging hunt for me. If we want a clean brain wash, we need the proper parts. Most of them burned out when we used it on Widow, and since we haven’t needed it since, we’ve let it fall into disarray. My fault, really. You will go to R&R and find out what parts need replacement. Keep me updated on your progress.” He nodded at him, sending him on his way. 

He turned up pulled up the profile for Subject 001.

**_Subject 001: AKA Marco Marshal: Codename: War_ **

**_Sub-Group- Group 17-(Revival Project: Operation Forging Hurricane.)_ **

**_Date of Birth: March 7th, 2042_ **

**_Age: 21_ **

**_Race: Caucasian_ **

**_Mother: Natalia Marshal_ **

**_Father: Phillip Marshal_ **

**_Order Plan: Embryo to be injected with Serum Mk. 627, and raised in athletic scenarios until late infancy. Have Subject 001 memory wiped after training up until age 5. Send into slavery chain, in attempt to test mind wipe training simulation by fighting in ‘Trials’. Guided slaver to slaver until sold into Pablo Ramirez’s possession. After ‘Trials’, have order sent for pickup._ **

**_‘Trials’:Series of caged fights in groups or one on one of slaves fighting for assured ‘freedom’._ **

**_1st NET Results (1 week) : Extreme success. Early memories completely suppressed, while combat prowess has risen. More Observations to be made._ **

**_2nd NET Results (2 weeks) : Unknown exponential increase in strength, bone density, height, healing capabilities, pain tolerance._ **

**_3rd NET Results (9 weeks) : Increased use of brutal methods of defense. In most recent fight, Subject 001 tore the head off one slave, and quite literally ripped another man in half. (Defense mechanism? Uses brutality to scare other’s into submission?)_ **

**_4th NET Results (17 weeks) : Has reached and surpassed his original Group. Group 17 now all but erased, him being the sole victor. Showing early signs of PTSD._ **

**_5th NET Results (30 weeks) : After weeks of a hunger strike, when the guards went to force feed him, he killed three of the guards before the cell could be re-sealed. He was reported as: “Ripping out necks with his teeth.” and “Stomping on one’s head till it was paste.”_ **

**_Recent attempts to contact Pablo Ramirez’s Clan has proved unsuccessful. Radio silence has been the issued order until further notice._ **

**_*SPECIMEN IN CONTAINMENT* *READY FOR PICK UP*_ **

**_Mission Results: Failure_ **

The man clenched the arm rests of his chair at the sight of the word. ‘ ** _Failure_** ’ And to make matters worse, he lost one of his best agents. Too bad Talon doesn’t grieve failures, they step over them. If she got herself killed, she deserved it, but he had a nagging suspicion that this was not the case. He suspected that she might be in Overwatch’s custody, but with nothing to prove it, retrieving her would seem like a moot point to the agents. He needed to have Sombra hurry along with her surveillance. 

He spun his chair back around, so he faced his desk. By pressing a scanning print lock on the inside of his desk, a drawer opened, revealing a photo album, an old 1860 Remington new model army revolver, and a bottle of good scotch. He reached for the album and peeled the cover open, revealing the first picture. 

It was a younger version of himself and his wife holding their infant son. On the bottom of the Polaroid, was a heart with N+P inside. He smiled fondly at older days gone by. Too bad reality is not that forgiving, he did what he needed to do for the betterment of Talon, and by extension, the world. Its too bad it was the ones he loved who ended up paying the price. He knew his place. He was to spearhead mankind into the next generation, and conflict would be the catapult.

“ _Mr. Marshal, Vishkar CEO Kelly Brisco is on the line, and wishes to speak with you.”_ The voice of his secretary brought him away from happier and sadder times. He pressed the button that activated their line. “Send her through.”

He spun the chair around to face his screen, revealing a more mature woman in her forties with graying brunette hair. “Hello Phillip, how are you today?” She asked with a small smile. His already present frown deepened. “I _know_ you didn’t call for pleasantries, Kelly. What do you want?”

“What, an old friend can’t call up a colleague and have a nice chat?” She asked in mock innocence. He gave her a deadpanned stare. “Since when have you ever done that?” He asked with mounting irritation. “Please Kelly, I’m very busy, so if you would please get to the point?” He asked trying to hurry along the call. 

“A little birdie told me your ‘pet project’ managed to escape. In the hands of Overwatch of all places. How did that manage to happen?” She asked, her smile only growing. ‘ _Stupid Bitch’_ He thought to himself. “First off, get your nose out of Talon’s ass. That’s out business, not yours. Second, thats what happens when you leave a bunch of raiders to get shit done. I should have hired the Marauders, they would have had this done years ago. Is that all you called for?” He asked, starting to grit his teeth.

“You know gritting your teeth is bad for you Phillip, you could chip a tooth. You know what, grit away, you already have a chip on your shoulder, maybe you should have one in your mouth too. I called to see if you planned on putting any investments towards Vishkar Technologies. If you do, we’ll supply you with hard light rifles, armor, vehicles, and other gear.” She proposed to him.

He looked down, thinking about the need of an upgrade for a more devastating affect. Oh what he could accomplish, the cities he could stomp, the armies he could trample. He would rule. Him alone..

“Deal. Fifteen million for enough gear to arm everyone of my men twice.” He spoke quickly and decisively. Her eyes widened that the fast draw, even on the price, normally most companies would pay twice as much, but he knew the price of everything it took to make their gear, so trying to scape him on a price was impossible. She frowned, but sighed after a moment and nodded. “Fine, I’ll have them at your base by 1500 hours tomorrow. Be seeing you.” The transmission ended, plunging the room into darkness.

He sat there in the darkness facing the large, blank screen. He turned and pressed the button on his intercom to call his secretary. “Carol, call Triton.” He said sternly. “ _Yes sir.”_ They knew what a call to Triton meant. He was mad, and someone was going to die for it.

**—Hostal La Campana, Gibraltar, Spain—**

Sombra came out of the steamy bathroom, in her purple panties and oversized comic tee. Her damp hair rested over her shoulder as she trotted into the main living area. She plopped down on the bed and pulled out her laptop, opening it and activating the spy wear she used to hack their camera’s. The first sight that greeted her was the area out front by the main gate. “ *sigh* Quiet..” She sighed to herself.

She tapped her screen to move to the next camera. It depicted McCree in the lounge drinking whiskey with Genji. They seemed to be having a drinking contest and McCree was winning. She let her eyes linger on McCree’s form, enjoying the sight of the muscular cowboy not wearing the poncho. She changed the camera quickly, not wanting her personal wants to get in the way of work.

The next camera showed many of the Overwatch engineers cleaning up Hanger Bay 7 for the night. A woman caught her eye, a woman that she knew all to well. She practically raised her, taught her everything she knew about defending herself. Keahi [Hokulani](http://www.behindthename.com/name/hokulani) ** _,_** as of recently, Queen of the Junkers. She prided herself at not being close to anyone, but if there was one person she had to admit, she cared for her, like a big sister, and even a mom at times. She liked her son, but she knew he wasn’t _around_ anymore. 

She wondered why she would choose to fight for Overwatch. Now she could have to fight her, and this broke one of the only rules she has in life. Don’t get close to people, cause they can be used against you, even in ways you never intended. She closed her eyes and clenched the sides of the laptop, calming herself down.

When she switched to the next camera, she blinked in surprise. An unknown man in a hooded duster and gas mask stood, which she believed to be Subject 001, in front of a cell, which held the one and only Widowmaker, who appeared to be sleeping. She quickly turned up the audio to hear their conversation.

“ _Wake up.” He said loudly. She quickly sat up and faced him, her glare changing to surprise. “I didn’t know you were an enemy of Overwatch, I apologize for having you thrown into prison, it was not my intention.” He spoke sincerely. She raised a brow. “Why do you keep being kind to me?” He shrugged before replying. “My mom always told me to treat people the way you want to be treated. That applies to everyone, even if they don’t return it, you know you did the right thing at the end of the day.” She seemed to contemplate his words for a moment before asking; “Why are you here?” She asked, giving a look of caution and weariness._

_“To see if you are alright, I didn’t see you after we got off board. I wanted to make sure they hadn’t hurt or killed you.” He spoke quietly. Once again, she raised a brow. “Why would you care about what happens to me?” She spat at him. “Personally, I don’t. I don’t know you, not even your name. I could kill you without a second thought, and even these bars in the way wouldn’t save you. On the other hand, your just a soldier doing a job, I understand that too. I’ve let others go in the past, I’m trying to be less…ruthless, according to a friend.” He spoke with shame that one of his characteristics made Angela fear him._

_She watched him with caution, but her shoulders seemed to relax more. “I-I’m fine, just tired, wish I had a proper pillow.” She spoke the last part to herself, but he seemed to have heard it, because he turned on his heel and left the room. Widow watched the man leave, confusion on her features, changed to a stunned look when he returned with a pillow and blanket. He handed them to her through the bars, which she hesitantly reached out for and took from his hands._

_He nodded once she set up her little bed. “Need anything else?” He asked quietly, to which she shook her head. “Merci…Marco…” He didn’t say anything, turning to leave. Only stoping when her voice brought him to a halt. “Amélie…My name is Amélie.” He turned his head slightly, looking at her over his shoulder, his turquoise eyes practically glowing. “Pleasure to meet you…get some shut eye, you’ll need it.” With that he cut the lights in the cells and walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him._

Sombra closed the camera application, pulling a chunk of the recording with it, and sending it to her boss. That was Subject 001? She’d seen recordings in classifieds of Talon about him. Capable of tearing a man in half, ripping a heart out, or straight up pulling someone’s head off their shoulders. That guy was one tough nut to crack, why was he acting so….nice? She always thought slaves were the true hardened people of the world, always bitter and angry. Guess the old saying goes; there are exceptions to every rule?

“Marco…huh.” She mumbled to herself, pulling up more records on him. His exploits around Australia popped up one by one. They started slow and went faster, until all she could see were articles and documents appearing all over the place. It grinded to a halt on a massive video recording group that popped up, dated at three days ago. It was an old recycling plant deep within the southern deserts of Australia, labeled: Subject 001 Pick Up Mission Failure, it belonged to Talon, a mission report.

She turned on the recording and started cycling through the different soldiers helmet cam’s until she landed on what she was looking for. It was a soldier in Gabe’s personal squad, C-750. 

_The man readied his rifle, glancing up at a brunette with a submachine gun. She blushed, smiling and waving at him, as he did to her in return. His shift focused to where Widow and Reaper stood. Reaper addressed his troops. “This is a quick pick up mission. Subject 001 is our target. I want to remind everyone what this man is capable of. A year ago, destroyed two raider clans by himself. Two years ago, wiped out a slave trade line. Three years ago, finished a 7 year crusade of fighting against everyone he’s ever met, literally. So do not treat him like your typical Overwatch Agent. Alright, LET’S MOVE!” He roared as the doors opened and the troops marched out._

_C-750 followed his team to the main plant, following Reaper and Widow inside as they secured the area. Reaper called out to them. “Go get him, we’ll guard up here.” They didn't hesitate in following the order, pulling open the vault door and running down into the complex beneath._

_They traveled through a nearly empty base, finding empty rooms and hallways all throughout the facility. When the teams gathered back together, they opened a dual set of thick sliding glass doors, revealing a long hallway. Body parts, blood, bile, guts, and shredded skin and bone littered the floor alike. Many of the soldiers gasped at the sight, some even throwing up._

_C-750 was the first to enter the room, aiming his weapon around, trying to find the source of the carnage before him. He walked further into the room and kept his gun trained forward. The glass doors closed behind him, causing him to spin around, facing the doors, seeing the worried faces of his men._

_“UGHRK!”_

_What they hadn’t seen was the man who was alive, laying prone on the ground, smeared in blood and entrails. He stood up quickly and plunged a knife into his neck, making him fall over. His cam fell off, giving her a view of the door and the terrified Talon troops. Their faces showed continued growth of mortification as ripping flesh could be heard in the back ground._

_The brunette from earlier was in tears, falling to her knees and beating on the glass, screaming pleas for the masked man to stop. After one more cringe worthy rip of flesh, blood spattered on the window doors and walls around, causing many of the agents to run away. The brunette stayed, even opened the doors and stood there as he approached. She watched him with fury in her eyes._

_“Was he a Raider? He didn’t look like a raider.”_

_The brunette had to freeze, thinking over what the man who just killed her love interest had said. “What?! NO HE WASN’T A RAIDER! HE WAS TALON! I’LL KILL YOU!” She drew her pistol and fired until the clip was empty. She could only stare as he didn’t move, not knowing every single one of her bullets were blocked by his armor._

_He walked forward, passing her. “If he was special, I’m sorry. I only wanted to hurt the junkers. I know you never will forgive me, but know I do carry the weight of his death with me for the rest of my days. What was his name?” He asked softly, barely turning his head towards her when speaking._

_The brunette was on her knees, tears pouring down her face, dripping to the floor. “K-Kyle..His name *shaky sigh* His name was Kyle.” She spoke after a moment. “Kyle…” He murmured softly. He turned to face her. “I’m truly sorry. I’ve lost people too. May he rest in peace. I must continue on, I will kill any who oppose me, except you. You’ve lost enough today. You don’t need to lose your life as well.” He stated before continuing on, leaving the brunette to grieve to herself._

Sombra shut off the recording and began scrolling through the articles, trying to ignore the fearful feeling building in her gut. She kept scrolling until a particular article caught her eye. One captured four years ago, when the finales were going on during the ‘Trails’. In one of the pictures, the one and only Phillip Marshal stood next to Pablo Ramirez as they finished the settlement on the transaction of Subject 001.

Sombra scrolled down a bit further revealing a picture of Marco after winning one of his final matches. He looked much more muscular in these latter ones compared to earlier when he was much scrawnier. He was covered head to toe in blood, cuts, and gashes, his fist thrown triumphantly in the air, surrounded by twelve downed and bleeding corpses. She realized with a gag that he was holding someone’s liver. She shivered when she looked at the black and white print. 

Whoever this Marco guy was, he’s big on Talon’s priority list, which makes him big on her list. She could use a powerful friend like him, someone who can get stuff done. She just needs to figure out what his weakness is, because _everything_ can be hacked…and _anyone_. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex in this chapter, a new player also introduced, although subtly.

**_—_ Watchpoint Gibraltar/7:45pm—**

Marco paid no mind to the outcries of the agents as he sprinted past them, his duster bellowing behind him. He leaped off the stairs into the rocky outcropping, running deathly close to the edge the entire way across, the cries and pleas becoming more and more distant by the moment. He ran further into the outcropping, making his way down and into the city of Gibraltar. His sprint slowed to a walk, huffing, not from exhaustion, but rather embarrassment and humiliation.

It was remarkable how he was able to master complex machinery and terminals in the matter of minuets, but it seemed basic machinery was beyond his grasp. He had failed at mastering use of some of the most basic appliances, such as a microwave, and faucet on his own. 

Lena had set up his first shower, he couldn’t even set up his own. The water had been freezing the entire time, and he was too embarrassed to ask how to fix it. He finally decided to flee when he accidentally caused a fire for putting a microwave meal in for too long. Many of the agents burst into laughter at the display.

He said nothing, simply ignored their laughter as he cleaned up the mess. As he finished, many tried to gather his attention, which he promptly ignored, before leaving. When he found that a few of the agents tried to follow, he bolted, losing them very quickly.

Now he was out in the open, adorned in his hooded duster and mask, minus the shoulder spikes and chest harness. He made his way towards the center of town, watching people as they walked by, ignoring the double takes and stares he was receiving. He was armed with his dual 1860 New Model Armies and a combat knife. 

He walked further into the city, trying to find a recognizable landmark from the maps he had seen over last night. After scanning his surroundings, he realized he had ran much farther than he had anticipated. He was in Cathedral Square, almost in its center when he stopped walking. He kept walking, finding a bench to lumber over to.

He sat his heavy frame down on the wooden bench, it groaning in protest of his weight. He sat quietly for a while, watching people pass by, un-afraid of any lingering threat, any dangerous creature. He wondered if they appreciated how well their life was. He hoped they did..thats all you can do.

“This seat taken, amigo?” The voice of a Latina woman brought him from his revere. He turned to see a woman in a magenta blouse and skinny jeans with purple heels. Half of her head was shaved, wires running along the side of her head.

He said nothing, only patting the spot next to him. He wouldn’t move an inch. He recognized her upgrades. She was a hacker, one of those next level hackers. He’d met one before, he was nice, until he tried to _kill_ him, too bad really. 

She took her spot next to him, crossing her legs as she sat down. She used her hands to pull up a tiny holographic screen in front of her. He didn’t turn his head, only slowly reached for his revolver under his duster. He closed his eyes and whispered. “Whatever you want with me…it better be to kill me. Cause if I have to get up…”

She laughed at his first words to her. “Spoken like a true waster. I like that, but you see, I’m not here to kill you, just to make your acquaintance. I heard you were a mercenary for a time back in the wasteland. Wanted to know if you still took jobs?”

He shook his head, the weaving of his hood told her what she needed to know. “I have a new client. I like the gig, think I’ll stick with it a while. Appreciate the offer though.” He tried to speak quietly, but the deep distorted voice of the rebreather caused his voice to carry, causing a few heads to turn, before quickly looking away.

“But you haven’t even heard the best part, amigo. The price! See, the price is not what I pay, its what _you_ pay if you **_don’t_** help me.” She spoke with a smug smirk, clearly ready to pull her trump card. “Is Angela’s life _really_ not even worth a _few_ hours of service?”

Before she could calculate his response, an enormous hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her up, eyes all over the dark plaza shot to them. He could see her reaching for her belt and grabbed her translocator from her grasp. “ **NO**!” She screamed as he took it from her, he looked at it for a moment before crushing it in his hand. 

“If you wish to use the ones I care for against me, you leave me no choice but to end your life.” He spoke sternly, lifting his head enough where she could wittiness the fire that burned so fiercely in his eyes. For once, fear gripped her, and did not heed. She thrashed violently in his grasp. How did this go to shit so fast?!

“PÉRDIDO! PUT HER DOWN NOW!” Marco recognized Angela’s voice, but did not let the young Mexican woman go. “Would you look at that, my _client_. She threatened your life ma’am, I will not stand for that, and you know it.” He shot back sternly. “I’m very well aware she threatened my life, I’ve been nearby here awhile. Put her down, _please_ libeling.” Marco’s head as well as Sombra’s whipped towards Angela. She was in a white sweater, black leggings, and converse shoes. She stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. 

He dropped the woman, letting her unceremoniously fall to the floor, but immediately unholstered his revolvers and aimed them at Sombra. Angela rolled her eyes and went to help up Sombra. Sombra let coughs rack her frame, her throat course from nearly being crushed. 

“*cough* W-Why are you even bothering with me amiga. I threaten to end your life, and your helping me out? You must have a death wish…” Sombra chuckled darkly. **“I concur.”** Marco spoke loudly, training his sights on the younger woman’s head.

“I made an oath to help those in need, and that applies to any and everyone. But I do want to know why you threatened me, Sombra.” Angela asked in irritation. “You _know_ her?” Marco asked, surprise evident in his tone. “I did her a favor once, and she owes me.” Angela said, proud to have something over the young hacker, to which Sombra frowned, before snide-fully looking up at Marco.

“Are you going to kill me, _pendejo_? If not, put the guns away.” She hissed at him. He sneered behind his mask. “I’m fine, I like my guns right where they are.” He growled back. “Pérdido, put the guns down.” Angela barked at him. He grunted loudly in protest, but slowly let the weapons fall to his side, before reluctantly holstering them. 

He obviously didn't like that Angela was this close to Sombra, she could easily pull a gun from her belt and just shoot her. All of them were removed from their thoughts when a massive crash came from their right side. Dust and debris flew at them, making them close their eyes and hold their breath, as to not inhale the dust. 

When the dust cleared, a mech suit slowly rose from the crater it had created upon landing. It was solid white with a glowing red outline at the joints. The pilot was very well protected by the looks of the wire crossed plexiglass that domed around him. Marco glared at Sombra. “That _your’s_ _too_?” She shook her head, a look of fear on her face. “ _That’s not mine…_ ”

Marco’s eyes widened, but before he could turn to face it, it launched forward, it’s fist connecting to Marco’s sternum. The resulting punch sent him flying across the plaza, crashing through benches and tables alike, sending people screaming and scattering. He pushed his aching body from the concrete, and saw it was warming up for another charge. 

He quickly finished standing and unholstered his revolvers and began running at mech. When he was well over half way across the plaza, the mech launched forward, and Marco summersaulted forward, landing on top of the soaring mech. Its charge drew it closer to a concrete divide, so Marco used this chance to fire all twelve rounds from each six shooter through the roof of the mech. He did a back flip off the mech right as it plowed into the concrete, sending rubble and debris everywhere.

When the dust cleared, the mech was pulling itself out of the hole, and aiming its arm at Marco. Marco seemed to sense what it was because he began running away from the mechanized suit. 

***SWHOOM***

***SWHOOM***

Small missiles flew from the mech’s arms, Marco barely dodging the first one, and quite literally twirled over the second. Upon landing, he kept up his sprint, trying to stay ahead of the attacks, he twirled around when he heard the arm reload. He held up his revolvers and began twirling them, spinning them at all different angles.

***SWHOOM***

***POW***

***BOOM***

***SWHOOM***

***POW***

***BOOM***

***SWHOOM***

***POW***

***BOOM***

As the smoke settled, Marco stood in his spot, slowly twirling his revolvers. The mech was on the ground, smoke and flame licking the side of its hull where it’s missile arm used to be. He turned to face the crowd of people, his duster bellowing behind him as he approached. His steady fire eventually blew up the missiles before they even left the mech’s arm.

All at once, he was met with thunderous applaud. Cheers and screams as people video taped the man that destroyed the mech. Many had gotten nearly the entire fight on tape, and wanted a clip of the hero on camera. The man saw all the cameras and took a step back.

Many who wanted a picture tried stepping forward, prompting him to dead sprint around them, scooping both Angela and Sombra up and throwing them over his shoulders, and taking off for the exit of town. Sombra realized if anything, he would run back to base, and without her translocator, escape would be near impossible.

Sombra fought against the giants grip on her back, but his speed and stature heavily out weighed her strength, and before she could cry out for help, she was inside Watchpoint Gibraltar’s front gate, and by the second found herself deeper and deeper within the base. 

When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see McCree, Genji, and Soldier 76 staring at her. She was being bound tightly with a chain. The same one she had seen strapped to Marco’s harness in some of the recordings. 

“My, my Darlin’, this is a good look for you, all tied up like that.” McCree said with a laugh. Sombra turned her head, slightly embarrassed by McCree’s banter. When she scanned her surroundings, she realized she was in a common room, presumably somewhere in the base. Marco came into her view. “So Angela tells me your Talon, which means you get to bunk with your friend.”

He slung the woman back over his shoulder and she instantly started kicking. “ _Dios Mio,_ could you be any more rough?” She yelled as she kicked him. He ignored the kicks as he made his way further down into the base. Soon, he opened an old iron bar door. She grimaced at the sight, this must be the old Blackwatch cell and interrogation area. 

He opened a cell door and felt the chain around her loosen. “Don’t throw me, no, no no no NO!” She soon tumbled to the floor, looking up to see a concrete ceiling, all the while cursing in spanish. 

He leaned down to fetch his chain, pulling it away from her with surprising ease. “Hey Amélie, I brought you a friend.” Was the last thing she heard from him, then the gates closed and he left them alone. 

“Widow, is that you _amiga?_ ” She asked full of hope. A dull sigh met her as a response, the only response she needed. She wasn’t alone, that’s all that mattered. “It’s me Sombra. How did you manage to get captured?” She asked, clearly irritated that the hacker also managed to get captured, despite not being able to see her face. 

“I tried to blackmail Subject 001, aka. Marco. Didn’t work out too well. You? We all thought you died to be honest.” Sombra said from her spot on the floor. Widow was silent for a moment before speaking. “It was odd. He chose to spare me for some reason. Brought me here on accident, didn’t even know I was an enemy of Overwatch. Still kind to me for some unknown reason. Expect similar treatment.” She spoke almost as if it was something to look forward to.

“Doubt it, chica. I kinda threatened his love interest, and he doesn’t seem to be as interested in being kind to me. Hell, it took Angela herself to keep him from killing me. I will admit, I was scared for a moment, when he destroyed my translocator…and the mech. To think, this is the boss’s kid! What is the boss capable of? OH! I wonder if he’d win in a fight against Akande!” Sombra trailed on, Widow listening quietly as she usually does. They remain that way until both had fallen prey to sleep.

**—The Residential Wing/ Angela’s Room—**

Marco wasted no time walking swiftly through the halls, trying to locate Angela’s room, mostly to explain what happened. He reported the incident to Winston, explaining Sombra’s threat, and the mech of unknown origin. Winston and many of the crew were surprised by Sombra’s capture, something he tried to remain modest about. 

He found the room. ‘071’ Printed clearly on a brass plate against the mahogany door. He knocked on the door with three solid knocks. A moment passed and no answer, he knocked again, this time a tad louder. The door was pulled open revealing Angela wearing her attire from earlier, minus the shoes. She looked incredibly irritated.

“Come in, we have much to discuss.” She spoke quickly, obviously not looking forward to the coming conversation. He was polite enough to wait until the door was closed to blurt out his first question. “How do you know that woman?” Marco asked.

Angela sighed, walking to her living area, sitting on a sofa. Marco followed sitting next to her. “I met her in Baghdad, Iraq. She had gotten injured getting intel, and I found her on the brink of death. She told me she owes me her life, so I get one favor. I might use it to have her leave you alone.” She revealed.

“Wouldn’t it be wise to interrogate her first, figure out what she wants?” He asked. Angela’s face distorted with distaste. “Why must we interrogate, why not a simple questioning?” She asked, disliking his resorting to violence. “Angela, she has information that could jeopardize the safety of all of us, I know those hacker types. They know shit no one else does. I need to figure out what she knows.” Marco said sternly, standing up.

Angela stood up and grabbed his arm. “NO! …I-I mean..please just, stay. No more running about tonight. Just you, me, and a good movie. _Please, libeling_ …” She pleaded holding him in his place. He sighed and let his shoulders relax. 

“Very well, I have been interested in seeing what a movie really is. Have you decided what we will watch?” He asked as he shed his duster, kevlar armor, and mask, placing it on the ground next to the couch, before sitting down next to her. She smiled bright, glad he was finally willing to relax. She walked over to her Holovid player and scrolled through her options, settling on a classic, Predator. 

She set it up and walked back over to the couch, laying down with her head in his lap. He smiled down at her, but refocused on the TV. Soon enough, he learned about the epic story of Predator, watching the movie the entire time with pure wonderment and intensity. It felt like the movie ended all to quickly. 

“How did you like it?” Angela asked as she stared at his blank expression. “ _Like_ is not the right word. I think _love_ is though.” She chuckled at his response before sitting up and turning over her shoulder, complimenting her flexibility. “Would you like some tea?” She asked as she continued to stretch. 

He stood up, nodding as he began stretching his joints as well, sighing in relief as they popped, relieving tension in the muscle. She went to the kitchen, presumably to make tea. He looked around her apartment, everything was post modern, sleek in design. To her, those two weeks at the church must have been terrible. 

He sighed in sadness at the thought of returning to it to stay alone for the rest of his days. That was if this place didn’t work out, but so far, everything seemed okay. Considering he caught two high priority Talon agents, he’s been making a decently good name for himself so far. 

Angela returned with two steaming cups of tea, one mug in each hand. She handed him his and they both blew on the surface of the tea in an attempt to cool it off slightly faster. They both returned to their seat, Angela laying against his side. 

After a few moments of silence and them both carefully drinking their tea, Angela broke the silence. “Marco, what are we?” He was silent for a moment. “Human beings.” His answer threw her off until she looked up and saw him grinning at her. She smiled at him but it quickly faded. “Seriously Marco, you and I. What are we in relation to each other?” She asked, the question undertone was concern. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never been in a romantic relationship. What do you consider us?” He asked seriously, not daring to meet her gaze as he stared into his mug. She was silent, but he could feel her hand wrap around his. “W-Well, most people date for a while, eventually become boyfriend and girlfriend, or sometimes changes depending on what sexual orientation you have. Then if things go well, and they truly love each other. They decide to spend the rest of their lives together. Usually through a bonding ceremony called marriage.” She explained in a rather flustered manner, unused to having to explain dating to someone she wanted to date. “I consider us boyfriend and girlfriend.” She said after a moment of thought. 

“Do titles really matter?” He asked after a moment of thought. She shook her head. “Not really, but its more or less for other people when they ask. But we shouldn’t be talking about our relationship with our co-workers anyways. It’s unprofessional.” She said taking another sip of her now luke warm tea.

“So if we don’t talk to our co-workers about us, and its pointless for us to talk about our relationship unless a problem or request arises, then what’s the point?” He asked, clearly still confused. She thought for a moment a realized he was correct, there wasn’t really a point. She set her empty mug on the table next to the couch, and looked back up at Marco, his mug on the table on the other side.

“I guess there isn’t one, but then what happens when two people like each other?” She asked quietly, sitting up to face him. He simply smiled at her. “I’d imagine they’d do with anyone else they care about, show them. I wanted to explain myself…my actions from earlier.” He said softly. She huffed in irritation, clearly upset she had been sidetracked by him. “Go on.” She spoke quietly.

“When that Sombra woman threatened you, my instinct was to attack, I don’t know why…I got so angry, I just…I couldn’t stand to see you hurt.” He spoke softly, like a child trying to explain himself. Her tense features softened. “Marco, I understand you were being protective, but you also have to put trust into me as well. I am not a blind fool. Were that any other person other than Sombra, I wouldn’t have been so quick to approach, especially not without you by my side.” She defended reasonably. 

“ *sigh* You’re right…You’re right, I apologize. Just, for me…please be more careful.” She looked at him again, his brows were furrowed, concern etched on his face. “I will _Marco_ …” She trailed off, whispering his name. He shivered for a moment, before collecting himself. She brought herself closer to him, this time determined to not be stopped.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled her butt into his lap, he instantly seized, unsure what to do. She straddled his hips throwing one leg to the other side, facing him completely. They both were quiet for a moment, maybe it was Angela looking at Marco’s scared, and torn face, or him looking at her clean, flawless features.

The silence was overwhelming at this point, she inched closer, hoping it wouldn’t take long for him to spring into action. Her lips met his, soft, slow, and careful contact was made. The kiss was all lips, gentle, but didn’t last long. She pulled away and looked at him, the gears in his head were spinning full throttle, he was overthinking things again. 

“ _Marco, libeling, look at me._ ” She said with caution, hoping to make him come to. He seemed dazed for a moment, but focused on her. “ _You…and me.”_ She said again, this time, he fully registered it, and shuddered. 

His hands snaked around her waist, pulling her body flush with his. His lips attacked hers in a lustful display. He raked his fingers through her hair, tugging lightly on the blonde locks, pulling her head back and giving him access to her neck. His lips and tongue trailed down her neck. She finally let out a small, but breathy; “ _Aaaaahhhh~”_

Marco felt the heat in his chest begin to rise, that one he had come to accept comes apart of being around Angela. He could feel his self control slipping away, a cardinal desire slowly rising to the surface. He wanted all of her, every _fucking_ inch. 

She seemed into it their little session as much as he was, giving breathy groans, and squeaks of pleasure. She looked at him when she realized he had stopped, and was staring at her, his throat went dry when she looked at him. 

Even though she always denied it, there truly was something angelic about her. Her pale complexion, flawless skin, golden hair, she was in his opinion, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. To him, no object, sight in nature, or other person could compare. 

“Ma o? re y u o ay?” He could hear her faintly, not registering her again, lost in deep thought. “ **Marco**!” She seemed worried when he came to, looking at him. He looked into her sky blue eyes, once again brought back to reality by her voice. He rested his head on her shoulder and she returned the gesture, embracing him tightly. 

“ _I can’t describe the feeling I get when I’m around you Angela, all I know, is you are all I need._ ” He spoke softly into her ear. He could hear her almost silent gasp. He felt her grip on him tighten. “ _Marco…”_ She breathed into his ear. 

As if a switch had been flipped, lust and excitement began to flood the both of them. They rushed to have their lips meet, feverishly kissing each other. His hands glided up and down her waist, eventually slipping underneath the sweater, his war torn hands trailed her slender waist and caressed her back.

Angela began to feel bold, using her tongue to prod Marco’s lips, asking for entrance. He opened his mouth to her with no hesitation. Their tongue play was interrupted by Angela’s moan when Marco placed both hands firmly on her rear, giving each cheek a full open palm smack. The loud smack reverberated around the room, followed by a loud, ecstasy filled moan, he simply repeated the process every few moments.

He remembered some of the things Ramirez had told him to try the first time he was with a woman. Well, now he’d get test out some of them. So far, neck kissing, she likes, spanking, really likes. Let’s see what else there is to uncover from apparently the rather kinky doctor.

Angela was currently lost in a state of bliss, being this close to someone for the first time in ages was still foreign to her. Him as well, but his instincts seemed to be doing wonders in guiding him to please the older woman. Having been married to the job all these years, along with rarely indulging in this pleasure, made for a whole new level of ecstasy.

Internally, she was dancing with joy. She was straddling _her_ young stud. ‘ _Mein Gott, I needed this years ago.’_ She thought as she bit her lip. She grinded against his hips, hoping to egg a reaction out of him. She could hear a deep rumble coming from his chest and throat, almost like he was growling…or purring? The heat rising between her legs was beginning to cloud her thoughts, making her forget any fleeting cautions. 

He grabbed her arms and pushed her slightly back. She was confused until he grabbed the hem of his tank top and lifted, revealing a chiseled chest littered with scars. She grabbed her white fluffy sweater and ripped it off of her, revealing a white, lacy bra. 

She stood up from her position on his lap and walked out a foot or so away from the couch. She was going to tease the shit out of him. When he tried to stand, she placed her foot on his chest and pushed him against the couch, this was her game now, and she was in control.

She twirled in her spot, slowing the spin to run her hands up the length of her body. She swayed in her spot, trying her best to sport her assets to him. She grabbed the elastic length of her leggings, striping them from her skin, slowly, revealing a matching set of white, lacy panties. 

She spared no expense in her dance, swaying magically around, entrancing the young man. Her incredible flexibility was being showcased as she did a full split, winking at him before standing back up. She walked back towards him, turning around and sitting down in his lap, her hands elegantly placed on her knees.

“What do you think Marco?” She turned her head to see a sweaty, stuttering mess. He was blushing heavily, it was evident that he had almost no experience in this area. He carefully watched her unsure what to do, his instincts seemingly having worn off, no further educated on what there is to do.

“I…don’t know what to do…I’ve never done anything like this with someone.” He spoke sincerely, his nerves beginning to show through his tone. She turned back around, straddling him like she had earlier, his eyes widening, and a small, but understanding smile upon her features. “ _Shhhh…libeling, I often forget how young you really are, I will guide you. Remember, I am a doctor…_ ” He chuckled nervously in reply. “Heheheh, how could I forget?”

She stood up, taking his hand within hers, and guided him to her bedroom, not bothering to close the door. She pushed him down on the bed, falling to her knees in front of him. “I’m going to make you feel good first, then, you’ll make me feel good. I’ll explain the last part after this.” She spoke slowly and sensually, calming his nerves.

She grabbed the edge of his pants and yanked them down, pulling them off of him. She could already see the tent being formed in his boxers, throbbing back and forth with the massively increased blood flow. The heat in both of their cheeks rose, Marco out of nerves, and Angela out of lust. 

She grabbed the edge of the boxers and pulled them down in a similar fashion to the pants, not expecting his member to swing up and bat her in the eye. “Ah! What was- **_Oh Mien Gott…_** ” Sitting at a solid 10+ in., she had her eyes on the prize as he sat up, making sure she wasn’t hurt. “A-Are you okay? You yelled.” He asked softly.

She hadn’t even moved her line of sight, eyes still trained on the throbbing cock. She licked her lips before replying. “Don’t worry about me, libeling, sit back, and _relax._ ” She barely got relax out before she shot forward, taking him into her mouth, and with quick, consistent bobbing of her head, sucking the young wastelander’s dick. 

This elicited a loud guttural groan of pleasure to erupt from Marco, arching his back as Angela took all of him in that she could. He threaded his fingers through her blonde locks and pushed and pulled her head up and down. She offered no resistance, even going as far as following with the movements, the slurping noise her mouth made became louder. 

She could tell he was ready to burst, by the was his dick twitched in her mouth. “A-Angela…I-I think I’m g-gonna…. **Auugh**!” She pulled her head back up and began to stroke his member as quickly as her slender hands would allow. Thick streams of white goo shot over her shoulder, landing on the carpet rather than her. The streams continued for a few seconds, but his member never lost its hardness.

She grimaced at the thought of having to clean that up later, but from the look on Marco’s face, it looked like he- “Oh god, Angela I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened! Do you want me to clean it up?” He asked, face full of regret. She was flattered he felt bad for dirtying up her room, but she still wants him, and messes could wait.

“No need Marco, I’ll take care of it later. Right now, you owe me a similar treatment.” She said seductively, making him forget the mess completely. She pulled him to his feet and took his place on the bed, winking at him as she sat down.

He said nothing as he approached, looking down at the skimpily clad doctor, the red tint in his cheeks darkening. She reached behind her and unclasped the bra and tugged it gently from her shoulders. She then grabbed the hem of her panties and slowly slid them down her legs, letting the white lacy panties linger on a foot, which she used to sling them in Marco’s direction. 

He smiled when they hit his chest and fell to the floor, eliciting a light chuckle from him and a small giggle from her. He moved over her and kissed her again, their naked bodies sliding comfortably together. Marco grinned in the kiss as he felt Angela’s B cup breasts press up against his upper chest. 

He realized she was still so small compared to him, it scared him that he might hurt her during their love making. He was surprised she was so calm about all this, he imagined it was experience with another male possibly. The thought of her with another man crossed his mind, making his blood boil for a moment.

When another one of her moans reached his ears, he calmed back down rather quickly, regaining control over his emotions. He realized he had bit down with a decent amount of strength on her neck. He leaned back, mortified by his actions. “Oh God! Angela, you’re bleeding!” She seemed mentally out of it, drowned by pleasure. “ _Bite me again, libeling_ …” She said with a breathy moan. 

To say he was confused was an understatement, but he would not question what she wanted. He bit down on her neck again, much lighter this time to avoid harm. He next sentence perplexed him more, but he obliged none the less. “ _Harder_ …”

He soon let go and she pushed his head to the same level as her breasts. She guided her right breast to his mouth, which he took the nipple into to his mouth and sucked roughly, grazing his teeth over it. He theorized that she got some kind of sexual pleasure from bits of pain in the right places, he also theorized she would guide him to those places. 

To test this theory, he continued the ministrations with his mouth, taking her left breast into his hand, pinching and pulling lightly on the nipple. Her moans of his name along with toe curling, and sharp nails being dug into his back as she clung to him, was all the answer he needed. 

He switched places of his hand and mouth, eliciting a new set of squeaks and mewls of pleasure. She was becoming more wet by the second, bucking her hips, trying to make contact with his member. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at her. “Now, lick carefully, and no biting on the pink, my thighs are okay.” She told him softly, to which he nodded.

She guided him further down, now on his knees while she lie on the bed. Now face to face with her womanhood, she brought down her hands and split the pink slits open to him. “ _All for you libeling…_ ” She quirked with a giggle. He seemed flustered, but determined. 

He licked the center of the dripping slit, stopping for a moment to mentally note her almost sweet taste. Doing the same thing she had, he used his hand to slip the slit open, working his tongue in and around the entrance. She inhaled sharply through her teeth when he licked her labia, using his thumb to massage the area in a circular motion.

“ _Aaahhhhh~…Marco…yes…just like thAT!_ ” She ended in a yell. She could feel her walls tightening, a clear fluid coming forth like a jet. And like a geyser, the fluid shot forth, coating Marco’s mouth and hands. He sat up where she could see his face, and blushed heavily when she found him licking his lips and sucking his fingers clean of her juices.

“What was _that_?” He asked in confusion and slight awe. “*ahem* I-I’m what american women would call a s-squirter.” She said, embarrassment clear from her tone. “It’s not exactly rare, but its not common either. Its when a woman shoots vaginal fluid from her vagina. It only happens when I become extremely stimulated or my tolerance for pleasure is low. Both in this case…” She trailed off as he stood back up.

“You taste good…sweet…I like it.” He spoke as he crawled on the bed with her. Her blush deepened as he was completely over her, hands firmly placed in the mattress on either side of her. She opened her legs and wrapped them around his waist pulling his hips against hers.

His grinded his shaft against her slit, causing her to whimper and bite her lip. “Now Marco, I think you know basic anatomy, right?” She asked, to which he nodded in reply. “Do you know where what goes?” He seemed unsure, causing her to giggle. “It’s okay Marco, I didn’t expect them to teach you this stuff.” 

She reached between them, grabbing his still throbbing dick, and guiding it to her entrance. His hormones were skyrocketing making him buck his hips, right as she lined him up. He plunged into her dripping womanhood, eliciting a scream of pleasure from her. Her nails dug into his chiseled back, drawing blood.

He thrust into her slowly, silently gasping at the intense warm, and wet feeling he had never experienced before. She moaned loudly as his length filled her, never having someone this big before, not even her biggest toy was as big as him.

His thrusting picked up lightly, the speed and depth was increasing making her cries of pleasure increasing in both frequency and volume. 

“ _Marco~…Ah Ah Ah Ah…Fuck m-me harder…what are yo- OH~!”_ She yelped in surprise when he switched places with her, now he lie on his back, with her on top. He chose to try something he felt she would enjoy immensely. He clamped his teeth down on her neck, threw an arm around her back, and rammed up into her as hard and as fast as he could.

**—Down the Hall—**

Lena and Emily walked hand in hand towards the room, ready to hunker down for the night. They had been discussing the repairs on the drop ship when a peculiar noise had caught their attention.

“Shhhh, luv. Hear that? It’s almost like crying.” Lena said worriedly. Emily smiled and shook her head. “I’m not falling for another one of your ghost tricks, Lena.” She said with a laugh.

“No, Emily babe, I’m serious. Follow me!” Lena ignored her girlfriend’s cries of protest and ran off down the hall, closing in on the door that the noise came from. “Angie’s door? What the-“

“ _Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah~ Oh fuck! Marco!”_ Could be heard on the other side, clear as day. The sounds of pleasure drew both of the women’s ear to her door. They listened quietly as their new resident wastelander pleasured the resident doctor. 

After a moment of listening and blushing deeply, the two women went hand in hand back to their room. They spent the evening discussing their days, Lena’s in the hanger and Emily’s search for a job. One other thing they discussed was some gossip about their new roomie, and his adventures with the good doctor. What no one else knew was the deviant little plan that was slowly formulating in Emily’s head. She couldn’t wait to tell Lena…


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today’s Special: The Egyptian Warrior and the Mexican Wastelander

**_—_ 6 kilometers south of Pucallpa, Peru/ Parallel with the Ucayali River—**

***POP* *TINK* *POP* *TINK* *POP* *TINK* *POP* *TINK***

***POW POW POW POW***

“AMIGO! GIVE ME SOME COVERING FIRE, THEY’RE ALL OVER US!” 

“ROGER! KEEP STEADY, I’M AIMING FOR THE HELICOPTER!”

***DOOSH DOOSH DOOSH DOOSH DOOSH DOOSH* *BOOM***

“WOOOOO HOOOO! ATTA BOY! FUCK’EM UP!”

Ramirez’s Mustang roared through the amazon jungle, its frame barely able to take the 7.62x55 rounds, kindly delivered from an enemy RPD, slamming into its reinforced metal plates. Marco returned fire with his M60, shredding the driver’s side of one of the trucks, sending it flying into the foliage.

He stuck his head back inside the car, reaching for his M49 Thumper. He grabbed three extra shells and broke open the barrel to load in a shell. He stuck his upper body out of the Mustang again, firing his M49 at another quickly approaching cargo truck, sending it into a ditch as a ball of fire.

Ramirez drifted along the dirt trail, kicking up leaves and dirt as he flew down the path. He hit his com link quickly before speaking.

“Blue Bird, we’re getting a fuck load of heat down here _amiga_. Think you can help us thin the herd?” He asked sternly.

“With pleasure, keep following the trail for another kilometer, that’s where we are, I’ll meet you half way.” With that, Fareeha’s voice went silent and Ramirez threw it into second gear, before slamming his foot against the accelerator. 

The screech could be heard at the landing site of the Overwatch team. They had landed nearly an hour before, the only people on the mission were Lucio, DV.a, Pharah, Ramirez, and Marco. 

The two young men had volunteered to scout ahead to see the activity of the local militia, who they’s been receiving disturbing reports of human trafficking circle within the militia officials. 

They had only been gone for roughly thirty minuets before a heavy amount of chatter happened over all local frequencies. Next thing they knew, distant explosions could be heard echoing across the jungle. 

Worry struck the group when balls of fire and smoke could been seen rising in the distance. The heavy gunfire could be heard in the distance, chatter sprung up on the radio of a man in a duster causing massive casualties.

“ _¿Dónde diablos está? Encuentra ese imbécil!_ ” An officer could be heard yelling angrily at his men, as gunfire and explosions could be heard in the background. 

Pharah took this as her cue, and soared off into the sky. Eyes glued to her from the ground, fear consuming all the members of the militia.

“JUSTICE RAINS FROM ABOVE!” Her epic line followed by a trail of missiles leaving the shoulder pads of her suit.

***TSSSHH*** ***BOOM* *FWOOSHM***

The explosions from the militia trucks sent a bright fireball engulfing a chunk of the tree line that Ramirez’s Mustang punched through. He pulled up next to the crew, the two wastelanders dismounting their vehicles, eyes trained on the flames that consumed the vegetation not even a few feet away.

“Hey Fareeha, _Buen trabajo, hermoso._ ” Ramirez said with a wink. Knowing enough basic spanish to know what he said, Pharah rolled her eyes, if only to hide the fact her ears and cheeks began to take on a redder tint. 

***PSHOOM***

Unbeknown to them, one of the surviving militia members had grabbed a Russian SVD sniper and tried to kill one of them. All eyes turned to Marco who looked down at his chest. The bullet was lodged in his class 4 ballistic plate inside his kevlar vest, having slowed down heavily from the metal restraint he chose to adorn.

A deep animalistic growl escaped Marco, he walked slowly towards the terrified, injured troop. Ramirez spoke up as soon as Marco started walking. “If you have a weak gut, turn away _amigos_.” 

Pharah watched as both the Korean superstar and the Brazilian DJ closed their eyes and plugged their ears. When she turned back to Marco, and saw something she would never forget, a display of true, raw _power_.

Marco finally reached the terrified troop and reached down with his left hand, grabbing the man’s hair, and pulling him back up to his level, ignoring the terrified yells of the young man.

He unsheathed his machete with his right hand and twirled it once in his hand. He plunged the blade in the middle of the man, eliciting a scream of pure agony from the man. He twisted the blade slightly so he could wedge his hands in the hole. In a horrifying display, he literally split the man down the middle by pulling him apart, blood raining down upon him. 

Marco’s back was still turned when he threw the two halves of the man aside. He turned to face a stern looking Ramirez, who had simply grown used to the barbaric display, a mortified looking Pharah, and Lucio and DV.a had still yet to turn around. He walked past them all, ignoring their stares as he mounted his motorcycle and fired it up. 

“Since Ramirez apparently doesn’t know the definition of a stealthy recon-“ “Hey! Fuck you!”

“-I’ll go ahead, _without alerting anyone_ , and figure out where these slavers are stationed. Lucio, DV.a, since Ramirez and I cleared out all the enemies between here and their first outpost, you’ll go there and scaven-… I mean look for anything about the circle.”

They exchanged glances at his slip up, but said nothing. They followed the orders, and right before Marco took off, Ramirez spoke up. “Yo! What about us, Pérdido? Where do you want Blue Bird and I?” 

Before he could reply, Pharah spoke up. “Who made you leader? You two are our most junior members here, if anything I should be telling you where to go.” Ramirez noticed how tense she was, like she was ready for an argument. Boy, was she in for a treat. 

Marco hushed instantly and stood in a full attention. “Where would you have me then, ma’am?” She seemed confused by his change in attitude, from leader to follower in a second flat. 

“K-Keep doing what you planned on, dismissed.” Pharah collected herself quickly. They watched as he remounted his bike and fired it up. He unholstered his double barrel sawed off and checked to see if it was loaded. When he re-holstered his shotgun and took off into the tree line. By the looks of it, Lucio and DV.a didn’t want to question Marco’s orders, for they were already long gone.

“Guess that leaves us Blue Bird. So what now? Want me to go mow some more of those sick _pendejos_? OH, I can finally use my ATG!” Ramirez exclaimed with excitement. He pointedly stared at Pharah when he heard her scoff. 

“What? You don’t want to put down these sick fucks?” He asked.

“I’d prefer them to be brought to justice, and face the extent of the law.” She said indignantly. 

“I never said it wasn’t justice…just the _wasteland_ kind.” He said with a smirk and a shrug. 

She glared at him before turning away. “Why are wastelanders so barbaric? Why must you always resort to killing?” When he didn’t give a snarky response, she turned to see him staring at her, stoicism etched into his features. 

“You wanna know why we kill our enemies, no matter how big the threat?” His voice was low, deep, and surprisingly almost untainted by his usual accent. “The great General George S. Patton once said, “The object of war is not to die for your country, but to make the other bastard die for his.” I’m not gonna let some slaver fucks keep breathing if you bring me to their literal playground. They don’t give a fuck about justice, about anything, why should we give them the benefit of the doubt!?” He ended in a yell before going silent.

The sound of vehicles could be heard rumbling nearby. Her head whipped around trying to find its source. Ramirez looked up. “Two vehicles approaching from the east, one is a Humvee and the other is an APC. Take point on the ship with your launcher, and only blast if I can’t handle it.” Before she could respond he sprinted off, Scorpion submachine guns in hand. 

As he slid into position, he could hear her suit launch her onto the ship, hiding behind a fin. “ _Do you not remember what I got mad at Marco about? You don’t give the orders.”_ Fareeha’s voice came over his comm. He rolled his eyes before he gave a hushed reply. “ _Yet you still followed them.”_

Silence fell over the comms as the sound of engines got closer. He waited patiently like a tiger ready to strike his prey. Soon enough, a Humvee followed by an APC came into the clearing of the tree line, parking a few meters away from the ship. 

About ten men in total departed from the vehicles, all armed with Ak-47’s, or RPD’s. Pharah tensed tightly at the amount of men he was about to engage on his own. He engaged instantly, switching quickly between punches, kicks, sweeps, and well placed bursts from his dual wield death dealers.

Before she could comprehend it, eight bodies were on the ground and he was out of ammo. He dropped the guns and ducked under the closest soldier’s gunfire. He pushed up, forcing him to fire into the sky as he unsheathed his knife and plunged it into the man’s sternum. 

He slung his arm in a circle while against the gun, stunning the man while simultaneously stealing his gun from his grip. He pushed the man away and fired three rounds center mass, killing the soldier. He had a suspicion someone was sneaking up on him. 

He turned at last second, using the stolen AK to block the downward swing of a machete. He kicked the approaching soldier in the chest, sending him away, only to barely dodge the swing of another machete. He dropped the Ak in the dodge and kept his momentum up in the spin, summersaulting over the stunned man, landing a drop kick on the recovered and charging soldier. 

The still armed soldier swung down, only to have his hand along with the machete stopped by Ramirez’s hand. They struggled for control for a moment before-

***THUNK***

The soldier collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Towering over the unconscious soldier was Pharah, smirking at Ramirez as she cracked her knuckles. He smirked back at her, that is until her face change to that of panic. 

“RAMIREZ! LOOK OUT!”

The warning hadn’t come fast enough, as a powerful force slammed into the back of his head, sending him to the dirt. All he could see was stars, but faintly in the background, scuffling and fighting could be heard, more and more voices came closer. Fareeha’s cries of anger reached him, and he tried and failed to clear his head of the daze. 

“Augh! *huff* *huff* Hrgh! Argh! What ar- HEY! Let go of me! Help! HELP! **_RAMIREZ_**!”

His eyes launched open and he rocketed up and rushed forward. He grabbed the first man and broke his neck with a quick twist of the head. The other two men, an officer and private, let go of Fareeha in alarm, quickly standing to draw on him. 

Ramirez flew forward, swinging a punch with all his force aimed on the private’s neck. A sickening crack of his windpipe collapsing could be heard as he plummeted to the dirt. Before he could face the officer, Ramirez was tackled to the ground.

The officer and him wrestled for control, trying to find the other’s weak point. Ramirez soon discovered the soldiers weakness was stamina. As the fight wore on, occasional punches managing to land on the officer, he was about to KO. Until a sharp pain found itself in his shoulder. He glanced at his left shoulder to see the hilt of a knife sticking out, and the hand belonged to none other than the officer he was currently tumbling with. 

* **POP***

The sound of a handgun, his handgun, must have lost it in the fight. He looked down at the officer’s-…what was left of his face. He looked at the ballistics and followed where he suspected the bullet to have come from, and few feet away, stood Fareeha, holding his back-up M9.

He shakily stood up and wobbled over to her as she sat on the ground, choosing to sit next to her. He grabbed the hilt of the knife and yanked it out with a wet *shlick* noise, followed by a low grunt. He tossed the knife aside and sighed. All that could be heard now, was Ramirez’s and Fareeha’s panting along with the noises of the jungle.

When their breathing calmed enough, they simply listened to the sounds of the jungle. The birds chirping, insects buzzing, the rustling of the leaves as the wind pushed the trees. Fareeha’s head snapped to Ramirez when she heard him chuckling, finding him just staring out into the jungle.

“To think, I gave up the wasteland for this. Beautiful landscapes, consistent pay, new friends, and a new life…and that fucking officer. Had he planted his knife three inches to the left, I would have lost it all. Makes you think, doesn’t it _chica_? What people like us do every single day, ending lives to save lives. Makes you appreciate moments like this; the trees, the sun, people we care about.” He trailed off, looking into the distance, mentally checked out for the moment.

He turned and looked at her, a worried expression forming on his features. “Are you alright, Pharah?” She gave the younger Mexican a smile of appreciation, before looking down. 

“I am, Ramirez. Tired and beaten. I imagined those thugs were going to try something, but thanks to you, I also get to appreciate this moment. I had never thought of my job like that before…Appreciating the victory, not just moving on to the next one.” She spoke softly, pulling her knees in a bit closer, and putting her head down a bit further.

“It only takes a few minuets after each battle, stop, look at the sky…appreciate the fact your heart still beats, your limbs aren’t missing, you aren’t deformed or mangled. Things seem so much brighter afterwards. Fareeha-“ He trailed off looking at her.

She looked up at him, their eye locking. He noticed she had beautiful brown eyes. She noticed he had emerald green eyes. The pregnant silence wore on, the two slowly closing the gap between them when an engine could be heard approaching from the tree line.

“One motorcycle, it’s Marco.” He spoke softly, still leaning in, she blinked rapidly, coming to if you will. She quickly stood up and readied her launcher, leaving Ramirez there on the ground with a pout on his face. 

He watched as Marco drove through the tree line to update Fareeha on his status. He grit his teeth as he sat up completely, trying to ignore the sharp pain emanating from his shoulder. He glanced up to see Fareeha watching him struggle to stand.

He looked down in shame. ‘ _Great, now she gets to see what it looks like for a ninety year old man to stand.’_ He hissed in pain as his leg and shoulder lurched sharply. Pushing himself off the ground with a huff, he stood up to see Marco holding Fareeha in her spot. 

He knew why, Fareeha wanted to help, Marco knew that Ramirez absolutely despised pity. After a few words, she managed to stay in her spot long enough for him to hobble over. 

“You look like shit Ramirez.” Marco said with a smile. Ramirez smiled, before his eyes rolled and he collapsed, unconscious. “RAMIREZ!”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's Special: A sip of history, and a gulp of sit down and shut up.

**_—_ Watchpoint Gibraltar/ Medical Ward—**

Ramirez laid restfully upon the bed, the only sound in the room was the monitor hooked up to his respiratory system, beating in harmony with his heart rate. His unmoving form had been there a little over a week now. 

Never once having surfaced, having hid most of his wounds, stitches having torn open, and a whole lot of blood loss later, he has already undergone three transfusions, and is currently recovering. 

The fluorescent lights flickered as a door was slammed down the hall. The clacking of high heels, along with the stomp of boots approached the room. Hushed murmuring could be heard outside the door for a moment before it opened.

“He’s still not awake…*sigh*… _God damn it Ramirez.”_ Marco spoke sadly as he approached his childhood friend and brother in arms, lying still on the bed. Angela said nothing, only approaching and hugging him from behind. When she wrapped her hands around his waist, he placed his hands on top of hers, holding her to him.

Fareeha approached from the other side, pulling a chair up, and sitting herself next to his bed. Prepared to start her next shift watching him. Angela convinced them both to take a break, only under the stipulation that Athena alert them if he were to awaken.

Marco nodded at Fareeha. “You gonna be alright here? Need anything before we leave?” He asked stoically as usual. She shook her head, offering him a small a smile, to which he returned it. “No thanks, I think I’ll be alright.” 

Marco nodded one last time before turning to Angela. “I think I would like to have one of those ‘therapy’ sessions you mentioned back home.” Angela visibly flinched at him calling the wasteland home so casually. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to call that… _nightmare,_ home. She smiled regardless and nodded. “Of course, we can host it in my office.”

He looked at Fareeha one last time, offering a sad smile before nodding and walking to the door. He looked back when Angela’s high heels were not clicking behind him. “I will join you momentarily Marco. I wish to speak to Fareeha privately.” He nodded slowly, unsure to make anything of it, but shrugged it off before exiting. 

She kneeled next to the seat Fareeha sat in. They shared a glance before both eyes settled on Ramirez. “It wasn’t your fault.” Angela murmured. Fareeha looked at her sharply, her features stern. “Don’t you dare-“ Fareeha started but was interrupted by Angela. “It wasn’t your fault, Fareeha.”

Her expression turned to that of rage. She stood up, the chair scooting across the room. She balled her fists until her knuckles were white. “ANGE-“ Angela once again interrupted her, but not by speaking over her, merely pulling the woman into a heavy embrace.

They stood in silence, Angela’s breath was steady, but Fareeha’s heartbeat was a thousand miles an hour. Slowly, Fareeha’s hands wrapped around Angela, returning the hug. She let out a choked sob, one that hit Angela right in the heart. Angela shushed the crying woman as best as she could, singing the same lullabies she sung to Marco, as well as Fareeha when she was young.

She sung Byssan Lull, an older swedish lullaby.The younger woman’s crying was ceasing slowly. 

(English Translation)

“Byssan lull kokka shetellin furl dae komme ma trivandings man pu vague yen.

Byssan lull kokka shetellin furl dae komme ma trivandings man pu vague yen.”

**—Three Hours Later/ Angela’s office—**

Angela stayed there much longer than anticipated, she had actually sung Fareeha to sleep. She had set the woman back on the seat, draping a blanket over her, letting her upper half rest on the bed with Ramirez. When she stepped quietly into her office and closed the door, she let out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding. 

She turned around to see Marco sitting in the seat in front of her desk silently, his eyes closed. It seemed he was more in a meditative state, rather than a resting state. He did not open his eyes to address her.

“I imagine she blamed herself?” Angela shoulders sagged slightly. “Yes…she did. She needed someone to vent to, even if not verbally. I did what I can for now, I told her to come to me if she ever needs someone to talk to. I’m sorry about how long I was gone.” She apologized.

“No need, I completely understand. Ramirez and I are the same way. We talk about what bothers us. Sometimes we can help each other better understand or accept a situation. Its what friends do for each other.” He spoke calmly, never once opening his eyes. 

She sighed, but smiled at him. “You’re right I suppose. It always pains me to see someone in pain, physically or emotionally. What did you do here while I was gone?” She asked sitting at her desk.

“The omnic by the name Zenyatta suggested that I try type of relaxation called meditation. He said I could use it as a method of finding personal enlightenment. He said I have to sit in silence, with something to focus on, and let the bad things of the day wash away. For an untold reason, when I think of calm and relaxed, I think of you.” He spoke so offhandedly about it, as if he were telling someone the location of their keys or phone.

Regardless, a light blush came over her features. “Thank you Marco. Would you like to begin our session?” She asked as she stowed Ramirez’s medical report. He nodded softly, opening his eyes and focusing them on her. “Where should we start?” He asked after a moment.

“Well, from the beginning I suppose. Tell me about your youth, what was daily life like when you were a little boy?” She asked.

He closed his eyes at the question, readying himself mentally.

_“I do not know where I was born, or even spent my first few years. But my first memories are of a country called Bolivia. I worked in the fields to pick coca leaves. A medicine to their people, but if applied with certain acids and other chemicals, creates a drug I’ve heard most refer to it as cocaine. After a few years of back breaking labor, my mother hitched us a flight out of the country as the cartels began to make their home there. She never told me where, we just got aboard a plane in the middle of the night and took off. Next thing I knew, we where living in a government provided housing in a camp in the Outback. We were there for a little over a year, when…the Outback changed forever. A rebel group attacked an Omnic factory, and destroyed the fusion core, irradiating the Outback into what you see it as today. We were too afraid to leave the camps and the government sure as hell wasn’t sticking around, so we waited for someone, anyone to find us. After two winters, there was only 29 out of 700. Someone did, Rusty. I worked in his scrap yards for a few year until my mother passed away from illness. After she passed, I was sold into Pablo’s group at the beginning of the trials. The rest you know…”_

She finished writing down whatever she was on her clipboard before she set it down and looked back up at him. “You speak rather casually about your mother’s passing, it doesn’t bother you to talk about it?” She asked.

“I came to accept her death even before she passed. She always would preach that one day she wouldn’t be there , and I prepared every single day for her to just drop and not get back up. And one day, she did, I grieved in my own way, quietly. I put myself to work.” He spoke calmly, forcibly fighting his voice to not waver.

“Why did you put yourself to work? Did you take no time to grieve-” She asked raising a brow when he interrupted her. 

“I worked so I didn’t have to think.” It was a simple statement, yet it was the underlying cause off a lot of his internal struggle. Complete and absolute shut down, rather than denial. Denial would have meant he didn’t believe she was gone. He knew she was gone, even accepted it, but didn't really feel like confronting that grief.

“It was better that way. I didn’t get sad, I got angry. I wanted to kill people. Rusty, Pablo, hell, even myself for a bit. None of it solved anything, the trials taught me that. But thats okay, it made me who I am today.” Marco ended with what could almost be described as a twisted smirk. Not enough for her to question, but enough for her to notice.

Angela sighed softly, she would need to press harder if she wanted to find the root of the problem. “Do you resent your father? For not being there for you and your mother?” She found herself cringing internally, waiting for a negative faction, only to receive his blank stare for a moment before he spoke.

“Since I never knew the man, personally, I could care less if I ever met him. Doubt he’s looking for me, why should I look for him?” His voice remained stoic yet, not wavering once. 

Well, his father isn’t the problem. But maybe it never was, maybe his mother? “What was your mother like?” Marco smiled at the question. He glanced down, eyes fixated on the distant past, far away from her or her office.

— _The Past—_

_“Marco! Time for supper!” Natalia called from the entrance of their tent, her light hispanic accent from being second generation Mexican American. Marco, no older than 12 at the time ran around the corner, a gleeful smile on his face. He darted past her into the tent. Natalia kneeled and turned her head to the side lightly. Marco ran back out of the tent and planted a kiss on his mother’s cheek, only to turn on his heel and run back in._

_Natalia chuckled lightly before standing and looking out over the camp. Her along with some of the first arrivals here have been helping manage the camp. Healing who they could, establishing a source of food, water, survival. She did everything she could to teach her son the same lifestyle. Living off the land, being resourceful, prudent, and observant. All of which would ultimately make life for him easier. A free life…_

_“Mom! What are we having for dinner?” Her eyes widened and her head whipped around to see Marco on his tip toes trying to lift the lid of a boiling pot of water and pasta. “Marco, stop!”_

_Her cry of disapproval startled him, causing him to fall back, bringing the boiling pot with him. The hot water splashed all along his right side, creating a violent hiss as it made contact with his skin and shirt. “MARCO!” She screamed in horror as she ran forward._

_He sat up and calmly peeled off his shirt, the only sign he was in pain was the soft whimpers he was eliciting as well as his quivering lip. At this age, he was used to pain, but half of his body had just been subjected to second degree burns, she could easily tell he was trying his best not to cry._

_“Shhhhh…oh baby, I’m so sorry. Oh my god, its gonna be okay, its gonna be okay.” She rushed forward, cradling her child, chanting the words again in an attempt to comfort both her son and herself._

_It took two men to hold him down, but she had been able to clean and dress his wounds. Once he was asleep, she went to the government building, their current hospital, and made her way up to what used to be the local CO’s office. She pulled out a piece of paper and pen and began writing._

**_Dear Marco, My beautiful son,_ **

**_I know that you never really got to know me the way a child should know their parent. Their origins, their home, their culture. You never had any of that. You never had a childhood, to me, thats what still keeps me up at night. You deserve so much more, and I knew your father would never approve of the life I wanted for you. Thats why we ran, starting in Bolivia, and ending up here in the Outback, or wherever we end up next. Right now we are hiding right under his nose and he doesn't even know._ **

**_To see you get hurt and shrug it off like nothing is what bothered me today. It made all the guilt I carry finally pour out. I need a way to tell you about who you are. Im going to make a series of holovideos and set them up on a private channel; 68474AUS. The password will be title of our favorite song._ **

**_You are too young to be able to shrug pain like that off. It just proved to me how little of an actual childhood you’ve had. I’m so sorry Marco, you never deserved to be forced to bear the brunt of the horrors of the world-_ **

_Natalie broke the pen from her white knuckled grip, she screamed and threw her chair across the office. She panted heavily before dropping to the floor, shaking violently, her body racked with sobs. She didn’t look up when the door was practically kicked off its hinges._

_Although her head snapped up when she heard the voice. “Mom? Are you okay? I heard you scream.” There stood her little boy, all wrapped up in white bandages, supposedly asleep in their tent. “Marco! What are you doing up? Y-You’re supposed to be resting, you’re too injured to…did you break down the door?!” She exclaimed in shock as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek._

_Marco smiled and nodded quickly. “I heard your scream from across the camp, I came as fast as I could.” Her eyes widened before her gaze softened. “My little trooper. Come here.” He walked over and sat next to his mother. She pulled him into an embrace, one he returned. “I was scared someone hurt you.” He spoke softly._

_“Honey, you and I both know, in a world like this, its always a possibility. As mi padre used to say. ‘Wether your talking about events, people, or even things, prepare for the worst, hope for the best.’ We have each other’s back, thats the only one true thing we have. And we need to utilize it if we need to survive… We might need to move on from this camp soon, before someone finds us, someone not friendly.” She ended sadly._

_Marco looked down, processing the information. “What if we slipped out tonight? No one would notice until tomorrow. By then, we’d be long gone.” His mother looked at him in a stern manner. “Marco, these people rely on us to help them survive, we cannot leave them. We need to organize and dispatch from this place. But that comes later, now, you and I both need rest.” She said with a sleepy smile._

_Mother and son stood up and cleaned the office, and made sure the door was not broken. Natalie walked over to the desk and saw the note. She picked up the paper and stuck it in her breast pocket of her jacket. She would finish the note when she felt like it. She grabbed the pen and fixed it as best as possible, placing it too in her pocket along with the note._

_She patted his head and he ran off, his injuries seemingly doing little to stop the munchkin from running about. She had been incredibly surprised to hear that he had not only heard her scream, but managed to get here within a few seconds of the scream, and bust down the door, seemingly completely in breath. Her son was truly becoming the survivor. If this was him at 12, imagine 18, 25. That boy will be a absolute powerhouse when he’s an adult. She could only hope the universe would look out for him…_

_—The Present—_

Fareeha opened her eyes to see Ramirez looking down at her, her head just to the left of his leg. “ _Hola amiga._ ” Ramirez said with a smile. Her eyes widened, and one swift motion, she was straddling Ramirez with a combat knife pressed against his neck.

He was surprisingly calm for someone in his situation, what Fareeha didn’t know was Ramirez’s crazy ex’s held a knife to him on more than a few occasions. But regardless, he was ready to use what little energy he had to disarm her. Their gazes were locked for a solid few seconds, brown and greens eyes were scanning one another. “Why did you lie about your injuries?” She asked sternly.

“The mission was more important.” He spoke sternly in reply. “Bullshit.” She shot back. “The intel was priority, not having to cart my broken ass home.” He grit his teeth, getting in Fareeha’s face. “Fuck you, I’m not falling for that self pity shit, you’re not like that. I know you aren’t, so what is it really?” She said as she breezed the tip of the blade against his neck. 

“I didn’t want to seem weak to you.” He said quickly shutting his eyes after he had spoken. He didn’t want to open them, afraid he would see her condescending smirk. He wanted to crawl in a hole and hide there. No one had see through him so quickly before. His smooth tongue hadn’t been able to save him. Not this time.

The next things he registered was the sound of the knife clattering to the floor. When he opened his eyes, Fareeha was an inch away from his face, not adorned with a snarl, but her eyes were damp with unshed tears and her lip quivered lightly. “Why would you endanger yourself like that just because of how I see you?” She asked softly.

He chuckled lightly in return. “I think we’re both smart enough to figure that part out.” He didn’t wait for a reply, going in and planting his lips upon hers. They kissed roughly, rolling over to take control of one another. “ _Ramirez…”_ Fareeha whispered. They froze as they heard the door open, slowly turning to see who was standing there.

There at the doorway stood a laughing Keahi, Angela, and Marco. Marco fell to the floor, Keahi was trying to not do the same thing. Angela was still chuckling but shaking her head. Ramirez leaned over and whispered into Fareeha’s ear. “ _Still got that knife? I wanna kill’em._ ” He said with anger and embarrassment. She buried her face in his chest to hide her growing blush. “ _Its behind me and to the left._ ”


End file.
